Break
by umbrella0326
Summary: Quinn has an amazing ability. Too bad her ex-husband stalker Dave wants to interfere with that. Rated T. I don't own Glee.
1. Chapter 1

"You know you can't go in."

She stared up at the sign that clearly said "Drugs." She was lucky to have a liberal mother who allowed her to read and write. She looked to the left and right noting this horse drawn carriage or that lone horserider and ignored the humidity sticking to her cowl. She looked up, brushing some of her luscious blonde hair past her bonnet.

Oh the sun was so warm that day. She could see the sun blinding her, hardly a cloud in that darn sky. When she looked back at the drugstore, she could see many people going in and out, sometimes women. She was convinced she could go in there. But her husband said no. And when a husband says no, that means no.

"I still could, Dave…" she softly said.

"No." He firmly said. "I'll get the Laudanum. Besides, you don't really need it. You just like how it makes you feel."

"Of course I don't!" she exclaimed. Then, she lowered her voice, checking to see if others heard her. "I just need it from time to time, when my belly hurts."

"Your belly hurts," Dave arrogantly began, "because you can't hold a baby."

"It's…!" she lowered her voice once again, "It's not my fault."

"Yes, it is." He insisted. "And you will learn. Now, I'll go in there and get you a bottle of Laudanum. And I don't want to see that bottle empty over the next few days."

"It won't be, Dave." She insisted.

"Quinn. Quinn, Quinn, Quinn." He condescendingly began. "You very well you will and you know it. I know you're just a woman and you're not very bright. But you have to know you will do this. Now, I will check it for you darlin' and you will obey me. Are we clear?"

She didn't respond. Dave turned his face into a scowl.

"Are we clear?"

"Y-yes. Yes, dear." Quinn responded. "Y-yes."

"Good. The last thing I want to do is to put a shiner on your eye to remind you. I know you're just a woman and all, but you have to do this. You must do this. Do you understand?"

Quinn let her eyes drift off towards a President Harrison banister and looked back at him. "I know, husband. I know."

"Good." He said with a smile. "Good, girl. I'll get the Laudanum. You wait here. You better be here when I get back." And then, he grabbed her arm and glowered at her. "You better."

"Yes, husband."

He left. She watched his bulky form walk towards the drugstore, saunter up the stairs, and enter the swinging doors of the building. She finally felt like she could breathe, now that his oppressive form wasn't there. Quinn looked around her.

Little boys were gathering horse droppings and girls were putting flowers in their hair. Saloons were just then opening and the local sheriff tipped his hat to her. She half-smiled back and watched him walk by, wondering if he could help her out of her situation.

He couldn't, of course. This was 1892. There was no way he would risk interfering in the sanctity of marriage, something only God could put asunder. Or presumably so. Nevertheless, she watched him walk by, noting how confident and kind he appeared. She barely noticed that his badge announced his name as Artie Abrams.

Quinn shifted her bonnet and looked north. The church at the far end of the street clanged bells that it was noon and many seemed unaffected by it. When you live in tiny Lima, Ohio for this long, you get used to such things like this. But that's when she noticed other couples walking by.

A Negro couple was in her field of vision first. They were certainly poor, with their torn clothing and worn hands. But there was a pride there that seemed so secure, so proud that she had no means of understanding. Another couple were a bit elderly, probably in their forties, and there were only ten teeth between them. But they were smiling at each other and Quinn so, so envied them so much. It was painful and she tore her eyes away.

That's when she noticed the church sexton. He was a bit wiry for his age but he still seemed healthy. His brown hair hung below his ears, but his height drew him to her. She watched him try to pull the church bells once again and noticed he struggled now and then. His goofy form and innocence appealed to her and she continued to watch him. She couldn't take her eyes off him. Around her, she heard others laughing at him, but she could hardly do that. He seemed so wonderful to her that she wondered what a life with him could be like. One of the townspeople said his name was Finn but she didn't care. She found he was kind.

"Let's go!"

She jumped at the sudden presence of her husband, Dave. He glared.

"Oh, come on!" He whined. "Why do you have to be so stupid? Why do you have to be so…YOU?!" He threw his hands up in the air and stormed off towards their carriage. She didn't move and looked down.

"COME ON!"

She almost glanced back at the sexton but instead, followed her husband to their carriage. Her lower belly hurt once again.

She hadn't felt the pain since her husband left her for the drugstore.

.

There's something comforting about countryside. The soft, rolling hills, the reliable farmland, the church spires that dot the land. The annoying insects, the summer sun, the way people wave when you ride by. Dave and Quinn rolled on the country roads, on what would once become state route 81, once Ohio finally decided to confirm state roads. Nevertheless, they strolled in their horsedrawn carriage, the Laudanum that Quinn desperately needed in Dave's pocket, and the horses gasping for water. Instead, Dave just smacked them harder with the whip to keep them in line. Quinn turned her attention to her right.

That's when she saw a murder of crows. Crows have long been a burden for crops and even livestock, but even life deserves to live. She watched their black bodies hoping to eat and live and thrive. As they rode by, Quinn could see a chick was struggling to collect a few worms from her momma. She instantly felt sorry for it.

Dave suddenly pulled the wagon to a stop and locked it, hoisting the reins to the side. He pulled his rifle forward. Quinn was shocked when she saw him aim it at the crows!

"Darn crows." He muttered. He aimed his gun and she could see the baby crow all alone in its nest. "Die…"

He fired.

She waved a finger.

The bullet wildly missed and the crows took off.

"Damn!" Dave yelled.

"Dave! Language!" Quinn mussed.

"Ohhhhh! I had it in my sights!"

"Well, your sights aren't that good. Let's get home."

He growled and once again said she was stupid. But eventually he pulled the reins and brake and they went on their merry way. Quinn hid her smile.

.

"Why did you burn this bread? Do you know how hard I work here?! What the devil is wrong with you, woman? Don't you know I need to eat to make us happy?"

"Sorry, Dave."

"Oh, just stop being stupid! Just stop being a stupid woman! Why can't you just do what you're told! You're just a stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid WOMAN!"

Dave slammed his bread on the plate and heavily sighed. But Quinn looked down. She stared at the hem of her long dress, noting that a string was loose and she'd have to repair that. The fire in the fireplace needed poking but she couldn't move. Her husband was talking to her.

"And this cider!" Dave roared. "It's BITTER! What the hell is the matter with you? Have you got some devil in you?! Do you know what I require out of you?" He menacingly leaned towards her and she fought back tears. "This is what you do, woman. You cook. And you cook well! You sew. And you sew well! And you maintain this house to MY standards and IF you can't do that, well you CAN'T DO ANYTHING! YOU STUPID BITCH!"

Quinn's chin was now to her chest. Fire softly crackled, a tear fell down her face and she glanced at the bread on his plate. She noticed that there was a tiny burn mark on the corner and looked totally edible. But she didn't dare say anything. Instead, she let the silence speak for her until Dave bolted upright.

"I'm going to the barn." Dave nastily said. "And when I get back, I want a proper meal for a proper Christian!" And then, he slammed his hands on the table, making her jolt in fear. "If it's not…well…" he evilly smiled at her, "there will be hell to pay…"

She continued to stare at the bread on his plate. It wiggled a little but she held it back.

"I-I-I will, husband."

"YOU BETTER!"

"I…" she swallowed, "I will."

"Good! Now, get to it!"

And with that, he blasted from the room, opened the door and left. He slammed the door behind him and she jolted from the sound. She let herself breathe finally, remembering to put the yeast, flour, butter, lard, and wood on the burner. She rifled through her memory how to make the bread EXACTLY how he wanted it and thanked her lucky stars in Heaven that she had a husband. After all, isn't that what a nineteenth century woman wanted?

She glanced at the loose string on her tunic. There was no way she could address that then. Instead, she bolted from the table and ran to the kitchen, grabbing four small logs on the way. Igniting the cooker, she added all of the ingredients into the skillet and began making the bread.

An hour passed and Dave hadn't returned. The bread was almost done, but Quinn was afraid it might not be done in the center. She paid extra careful attention to it, noting how this crumb or that lump appeared to rise or fall or brown or whatever. She couldn't be sure but she was convinced that THIS loaf was exactly how Dave wanted it. So, when she argued with herself that the bread was done, she pulled it from the oven and placed the long stick on the table.

She left the house then, heading towards the barn. There was no reason to paint the old barn since the weather had been so good lately and she didn't bother to think about that. The weathervane had barely moved that year. As she walked, she noticed that one of the pig's troughs wasn't close enough to it to eat. She couldn't figure out why. So instead, she wiggled her finger and the enormous bin moved towards it. The pig began eating. She almost smiled.

Quinn entered the barn. After the enormous door slid to the right, she looked around for her husband, in hopes of coaxing him back in the house to eat bread. But when she looked to the left, she found him.

He was asleep.

And drunk.

Sighing, she turned and returned to the farmhouse. As she walked, she made sure the pig could eat the compost from the trough, which he could. Then, she looked towards the sky.

"Is this my life?" she asked God.

She didn't get a response.


	2. Chapter 2

AN - both my betareader and I agree that the ending to this chapter is particularly creepy. You've been warned.

I use a gospel song here. It's called 'Bringing in The Sheaves'.

.

* * *

"You're a stupid bitch, you know that?!"

"What are you wearing? You look like a whore!"

"You'll never make that stew right!"

"Why can't you stitch faster, woman?!"

"What are you doing?! Put it in your mouth, stupid!"

Days turned into weeks as Dave continued to "instruct" his woman. Quinn took it all in stride, noting ways she could impress her husband. As she considered before, having a husband was important in nineteenth century America and given the fact that she was now the ripe old age of twenty-six, she was nearing the end of when she could have children.

But this thought made her sigh as she sewed one of Dave's socks together. As he ranted on about how she was incorrect on this thing or that, she considered that she was still not pregnant. This thought troubled her. There had to be a reason. As she poked the fire, she wondered if she should see a doctor. There had been a younger doctor in the area named Dr. Shuester who was said to be a miracle worker. She huffed a little at that and Dave took that as an insult to something. She quickly apologized, dropped her head, and counted the stitches until she was at her poker again.

More weeks. Months. Dave yelled. Quinn lowered her head. And the entire time, she would brush her blonde hair every morning. It was important to do this so bed bugs and lice wouldn't populate in her hair. Sometimes, she would turn the kerosene lamp towards her and see her chiseled jaw, her stunning green eyes, and even her plump little breasts. Dave seemed to be satisfied with her in bed, so why wasn't she pregnant?

Months turned into a year and she began to despair. She came to count on the times Dave would return from the fields and berate her. There was a kind of comfort in that. It certainly wasn't healthy by any stretch of the imagination but there it was – a woman, stuck with her husband, and struggling to live. In the end, it was her inner self that would win out. She was convinced of that. And she was right.

One day the following year, she and Dave were back in downtown Lima. He wouldn't permit her to go into the city without him, so she tolerated his publicly jovial self when she knew the real story. He would happily wave to people as he stood in front of her, blocking her view from others. He would forcefully push her behind him as he entered this saloon or that general food store or that drugstore. She still needed the Laudanum and he insulted her for that. That annoying pain in her lower belly wouldn't alleviate and she knew something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But he insisted it was all in her head and her husband was always right…right?

So, one day as they were walking, Quinn happened to look up and saw the medical symbol on a doorway – the snakes entwined around a staff. She knew that meant the doctor and she almost came to a stop as she watched.

"C'mon!" Dave insisted.

But Quinn hesitated.

"Dave?" she meekly said. "Maybe…Maybe I should get looked over?"

"What?" he nastily answered. "And have a doctor rub you over and say you're fine? No way! You'd probably like it. C'mon!"

He walked ahead and didn't wait for her. She turned back to the building and could see a man with a kind face in the window. He appeared to be reading something, his spectacles draped over his nose. She thought it funny and chuckled a little. Suddenly, Dave was right back in her face.

"What's so funny?" he coldly asked. "Fancy him, do ya'?"

She cleared her throat. "No, husband."

"Good. Now, c'mon!"

He grabbed her arm with gentle force and guided her down the street. But one time, and just one time, she looked back at the physician's office.

.

Meanwhile, she couldn't comprehend how she'd get all of the hymnals in the seats in time for service. She realized she only had five minutes until Saturday service was to begin, but she didn't understand how far behind she was. Her former Jewish roots instructed her to "Hurry up, girl!" Of course, she could barely remember how to say it in Hebrew and didn't care. Spacing the books by several feet, she was halfway done when she was stunned to see a very attractive blonde woman staring at her from the door. She came to a stop and looked up at her.

"May I help you?" she asked.

The blonde stepped in. "Is…is it alright if I enter?"

"Of course." She happily answered. "You are always welcome in God's house."

"God's house…" the blonde echoed. Then, she adjusted herself. "Are you the sexton here?"

"No," she replied, brushing back some luscious black hair, "my husband Finn Hudson is. And you are…?"

"Quinn. Quinn Fab-…Karofsky."

"Well, hello Miss. Karofsky. I'm Rachel Ber-…Hudson."

"Hello, Miss. Hudson."

"MRS. Hudson."

Quinn dipped her head a little. "My apologies. Mrs. Hudson."

Rachel smiled. "It's quite alright. Perhaps you could help me with these?" She held up the hymnals and Quinn brightened.

"Of course!"

Rachel handed her some songbooks and Quinn happily took them. A soft breeze filtered into the schoolhouse/church/sometimes hospital. The room wasn't that big yet there was a warmth Quinn hadn't felt in a while. She pulled some of her loose blonde hair beneath her bonnet and got to work. Rachel informed her of where she needed the hymnals placed and in no time, both women were finished with their task.

The first of the early service attendants started to arrive and Rachel greeted them appropriately. Quinn took this as her cue to leave and turned towards the door.

"Wait!" she heard.

The attractive, impregnate blonde turned around and stared at her. She watched the silly brunette bounce towards her.

"Why don't you stay?" she asked with an eager smile. "We'll have cider afterwards, the non-alcoholic kind of course, and I'm sure Mrs. Sylvester will have some of her…" her nose crinkled a little, "awful sandwiches." Quinn giggled and that seemed to entice the brunette even more just as a few more of the congregation entered the building. "Oh, please stay Mrs. Karofsky! Please! I'm sure you'll enjoy the sermon. Pastor Figgins is a wonderful speaker and I know you'll like him."

Quinn looked at her patiently. "I'm sure I would. But my husband is surely looking for me by now."

"Oh, nonsense!" Rachel joyously yelled. Then, she lowered her voice just a little. "Please stay! I'm sure you'll like-"

That's when an idea hit the former Jewish beauty. She coyly smiled and opened a hymnal.

"Here, Miss. Karofsky. I'm-"

"Please," Quinn interrupted. "Oh, please. Call me Quinn."

Rachel noticed the slight change but said nothing. "Alright, Quinn. Let me try something to…entice you."

Completely ignoring the few in attendance already, she opened up the hymnal to a specific page. That's when Quinn thought the heavens had finally, FINALLY opened up to her…

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,  
Fearing neither clouds nor winter's chilling breeze;  
By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,  
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,  
Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;  
When our weeping's over, He will bid us welcome,  
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

Quinn was convinced these lyrics were about her. There was something familiar and lovely about all of this – the idea that hard work and love can truly bring people together no matter what their differences. She watched this beautiful but rather odd woman singing in a way that she hadn't heard before. Rachel's arc was beautiful and her control was stunning and penetrating. Quinn felt herself swooning at the truly, immaculate beauty of her surroundings and closed her eyes.

"QUIIIIIIIN!" This voice came from elsewhere.

It was as if all the air dropped from Quinn's lungs and she looked at the door with slight terror on her face. Rachel noticed this, glanced towards the entrance, and right back at Quinn.

"I have to go." Quinn hurriedly said. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"That's Rach-!"

But Quinn had already escaped the church and back to her husband. When she emerged, there he stood below, glaring up at her. But as he stared, he seemed to be angry about the entire building and wouldn't stop scowling. Dutifully, she walked down the steps of the building and took her husband's side. As soon as she did that, he grabbed her arm VERY forcefully and yanked her down the path.

"Just imagine…" he passively began, "just imagine something my very lovely, dear wife…"

She cringed for what she was about to hear. He tightened his grip on his arm and gritted his teeth.

"Just imagine if you were in that building one more time." Dave angrily said. Quinn could see Sheriff Abrams from afar but was helpless to do or say anything. Dave didn't notice and continued. "Just imagine that, will you? Just imagine this, wifey. What if the doors were closed? What if you were inside? And just what if the building was on fire?"

Quinn's eyes widened in terror as she looked up at him. He didn't even look at her.

"I'll bet that if you were in there, wife, you'd come running into my arms then. Even if you had to run through a window, you'd land in my arms. Sure, you'd be bloodied and messed up, but you'd be safe and in my loving arms. I'd hold you and take you home and take care of you…"

She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a low hum resounded in her brain. But she couldn't make sense of it. Nearby, a horse's reins wiggled a little and she barely noticed her finger moving in the animal's direction.

"Now," Dave carefully began, coming to a stop and pulling her MUCH closer to him, "don't let me catch you in that building again. You wouldn't want…something to happen…"

He fiercely glared into her eyes and she couldn't look at him. He smiled and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her down the street.

"That's right, woman. You're mine. And you do what I say. And…" he glared and Quinn could've thought his eyes glowed red for just an instant, "you will never go in that filthy building again. Understood?"

"Ye-yes, husband."

"Good. Now, let's get home. I want some beef stew."

.


	3. Chapter 3

"You know…" Dave casually began, stretching his legs towards the fireplace, "I've thought about buying more land."

Quinn, sitting in the rocker near him, pretended to care. "Really?"

"Yes. I can see us now." He got up and poured more whiskey in his cup. He didn't even notice Quinn's hand flying towards her abdomen in pain. "I can be like the big plantation owners in Louisiana. Can't have slaves, of course." He filled his cup and plopped back in his chair with a harsh grunt. "But I could do it. And you could mind the house. And I could be the richest man in the Midwest…" He took an enormous gulp of alcohol.

Quinn sipped her tea and stared at the licking flames. The weather had turned a bit chilly and she pulled a shawl over her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she should say anything and remembered how being silent didn't set him off. Quinn glanced to her right to the never-ending pile of clothing that needed stitched or repaired. There never seemed to be enough time to finish that. Even in the darkened firelight, she could see the patterns were a bit off with the quilt she was knitting and she sighed.

"What?" Dave drunkenly asked.

"N-nothing." She answered, stroking her belly again.

"No. What?" He gulped more whiskey.

She sighed yet again. "I seem to have my stitching off on the quilt."

"That's because you're not careful."

She pursed her lips and stared at the fire. "Yes, husband."

Some time passed in silence. Dave continued to consume his whiskey and Quinn watched the flames. Life had been evermore restrictive for her lately. She couldn't even go to the barn without his permission. There were times she'd reason with herself. It's not like her husband ever physically hit her or anything. He never neglected her. He was a good provider and she was never hungry. Despite the deep ache in her abdomen, she was in good health and should've been happy.

But she wasn't. Far from it. Instead, she sighed yet again.

"Whaaa…?" Dave tried to ask.

"Go to bed, husband."

"No!" He said. He crookedly came to a standing position and took a deep breath. "No."

"You're tired, husband. You've worked all day. You need your rest."

Dave snapped and threw the cup! "I'll fucking tell you what I want! I want you to…" He never finished the sentence. Rather, he just giggled and covered his face with his left hand. Meanwhile, she stroked her aching belly and stood up.

"I'm going," Quinn softly began, "to take some Laudanum and go to bed."

"The hell you are! Not tonight, wife! _Not tonight_!"

But he didn't move. These words were harsh but hardly spoken with the conviction that was normally there. Instead, Quinn turned and quietly walked towards the little kitchen. The small, green bottle of the popular painkiller was on the shelf, which surprised her. She assumed he held it on his person, afraid she'd get addicted. Quickly, she took a healthy sip and closed the vial, placing it back on the shelf. She emerged from the kitchen.

"Good night, husband." She left for the bed.

"Goo-goo…. Go-gooooood….." And then he began to drunkenly sing. "Good night, sweet dream! Good night, sweet dream! I _know_ you'll dream sweet tonight!"

Quinn drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

But it was hardly peaceful. Soon after, she had some of the worst nightmares of her life. She'd had them before. She was screaming in her sleep. Her arms were pinned.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't think.

She couldn't fight.

Arms were still held and thrust was felt in her body – the kind that has no kindness, no warmth, and no love whatsoever. She could see the color red and waves of blackness all around her. There were white eyes she couldn't escape from and claws scratching her eyes. Her belly felt even worse. It was like this was the Sheol she'd heard about as a child and there was no hope of any kind of God anywhere.

She was nowhere. She was somewhere. She was crying. She was stuck. There was no hope. No love. No recourse for actions. There was absolutely, positively nothing.

The nightmare never really ended. Instead, she squinted at the early morning sunshine and felt like she never really had any sleep. This happened sometimes. Beside her, Dave's bulky form snored into the morning and she knew he'd need honeywater or something to help with his hangover. Laboriously, she sat up and swung her feet onto the cold, hard floor. When Quinn looked up, there was a mirror across the room and she could partially see her reflection.

She must've scratched herself in the night again. A thin red stripe was strewn across her throat from carotid to carotid. There were bags under her striking yet dull blue eyes and her nightgown was askew.

 _Oh well_ , she thought.

Quinn got up and started her day like any other. Every single day was exactly the same – a quick wash, a run to the outhouse, firewood for cooking and boiling, kerosene for the lamps, ingredients for breakfast, perhaps reading Scripture, and doing anything else that her husband might find wrong. There was always something that needed done right away and she longed for the day when she could rise from bed and things would already be done. Or at least begun.

Farmlife can be so, so hard.

Across the way, she heard her husband fart. That snapped her out of her reverie and she gathered tea for breakfast. She was transferring some vegetables to the counter when she almost screamed. Dave was suddenly standing right there.

"Husband!" Quinn said, her hand on her heart. "You're up. Do you want breakfast?"

But he just coldly stared at her. She could see the pure hate in his eyes and she involuntarily took a step back. His large frame filled the entryway and he bored dark eyes into her skull. She couldn't make out his face, but the whites of his eyes hurt her. Her bony structure could hardly take this intense pressure and she took another step back. And still, his murderous eyes wouldn't leave her. A small smile adorned his face suddenly and he wouldn't stop! She turned to the skillet, adding some lard and eggs.

Abruptly, he lifted his head, as if snapping out of a trance.

"Breakfast, woman." He said, slipping out of the room and plopping at the head of the table.

"Yes, husband."

She ignored him and resumed the task of preparing lunch. She tried to stop her hands from shaking and repeatedly checked on him. Dave appeared to be out of it, his hangover taking over him apparently. Quinn presented him a glass of honeywater, a traditional hangover cure. But Dave refused, slapping the cup out of her hands. He complained about the temperature and how long breakfast was taking.

Quinn resumed working.

In the end, there was a surprise that saved them both that morning. They both heard a knock on the front door.

"What in the hell?" Dave asked. Quinn said nothing, peering towards the door. Her husband angrily approached the door and opened it.

Sheriff Abrams appeared. He smiled up at the burly man, but soon, stopped smiling when he saw the angry expression on Dave's face.

"I'm awfully sorry to bother you," Artie cordially began, walking in, "but I was wonderin' if you had a spot of water on ya'?"

Dave just stared at him, completely annoyed by the early morning intrusion. But Quinn saw this as an opportunity and took it.

"O-of course, sheriff!" Quinn exclaimed, walking towards the door. Dave returned to his seat and she greeted her guest. "You're always welcome here, sheriff. How are you?"

"I'm fine, ma'am. Mighty fine." Artie said, taking a few steps into the house. He took off his hat and Quinn shut the door behind him. "It's awfully kind of you to welcome me here at this hour."

"Oh, think nothing of it!" she happily said. She poured some clean water into a cup and handed it to him, which he gratefully accepted. "We're just having breakfast. Would you care for some eggs and mash?"

"Oh, no. Thank you, ma'am." And once again, he thrust his hat forward in a show of respect. He gulped the water and with a dazzling smile, handed the cup back to her. "That's awfully kind, but I'm here on official business."

Dave's head turned towards him. "What kind of business?"

"Well," Artie began, "we've had reports of thieves in the area."

Quinn looked appalled. "Oh no!"

"Oh, don't worry nuthin'." The sheriff reassured her, stepping side to side. "We're on it, ma'am. And we won't let anything happen to you…" he glared at Dave and then peacefully at her, "happy couple."

She smiled. "Oh, thank you sheriff. But what is being stolen?"

"Well…" he took a step away from her, drawing his hands along his belt, "that's the weird thing. It's…animals."

"Animals?!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am. Animals. I'm afraid so. It seems we have some kind of pervert in our midst."

Dave watched the interaction and didn't like it.

"Wife! Get us some coffee!"

Artie glared at the drunken loser and watched Quinn dutifully walk towards the kitchen. She began preparing a pot of coffee, heated as much as possible. Meanwhile, Artie took his measure of Dave. He didn't like him. And the feeling was mutual. They glared at each other and even though laws weren't broken, Artie couldn't shake the feeling that Dave would one day be a lawbreaker. Police officers simply know these things.

Quinn returned. "The coffee is on. Would you please stay, Sheriff Abrams?"

Artie sensed something in her statement. But Dave did too. Suddenly, the burly man stood up and placed his arm around his wife.

"Yes, Sheriff Abrams," Dave kindly said, "we'd love it if you stayed and had breakfast."

Artie pretended he didn't see anything and said, "I'm just here on business. I just want to make sure none of your livestock have been stolen."

"Well," Dave began, "I haven't checked…" and then he coldly stared at Artie, "I can assure you that nothing has been taken in the night."

Quinn watched their interaction and could tell that Dave was highly irritated by Sheriff Abrams' sudden arrival. But that didn't stop her from staring at the lawman, hoping and praying he could see her pleas. Instead, he just kept his business.

"Well, if there is, Mr. and Mrs. Karofsky," he cordially began, "don't hesitate to ask. I'm always here in case you need me. I'm just a few miles up the road."

"I remember." Quinn quickly said. Dave glanced at her but said nothing.

Artie nodded and took that as his queue to leave. "Well, I best be going."

"Oh, please!" Quinn blurted out. Dave glared at her. Artie watched them both. But in the end, she controlled herself. "I mean, please Sheriff Abrams. You're more than welcome-"

"No, thank you." He interrupted, glaring at Dave. "I mean, I have more farmhouses to investigate." He turned and grabbed the doorknob. Artie swiveled and stared at Quinn. "I have several other things to do today. I have to look into some vandalism at the schoolhouse and a theft at the drugstore." And then, he looked just a little more closely at her. "In fact, I even have a divorce to do."

"A what?" she asked.

"Thank you, sheriff." Dave said, stepping between them. "We'll contact you if we need you."

Artie stared into his hazel eyes, the clear order to leave apparent. Having no legal reason to stay there, he quickly took his measure of the situation.

"Alright, then." Artie coldly said. Then he tipped his hat towards Quinn. "Ma'am." He pressed a look. A certain look. A look of signals and messages that he wondered if she understood. But her face was blank and she didn't respond. Instead, Sheriff Artie Abrams twisted the door handle, opened the door and left, shutting the door behind him.

Dave walked over to the window, watching him go. Quinn just stared at the door helplessly. There was something to what the sheriff was saying that made Quinn want to run to her new friend Rachel and discuss. But she couldn't put her finger on it… In the end, the sheriff left and Dave turned back to her.

Suddenly, he marched up to her and grabbed her arm!

"You are weak, you know that?" Dave snarled. He twisted her arm even further and a small squeal escaped her mouth. The sheer twisting and turning of her soft skin made her want to cry out but she wouldn't dare let him see her cry. Quinn, gulped as the air became thick.

"Y-yes...husband... I…I know...Dave... You're...hurting me...please." Quinn looked him in the eyes and swore she could see them go completely red but she wasn't sure. The tears made her vision blurry. He licked his lips and FINALLY let the young woman go. He turned around and left the room.

"I'm not hungry anymore! Where's that fucking cider?!" Dave roared as he turned around and left slamming the door.

Quinn let out a sigh of relief and fell to the floor in tears. And as he stormed to the barn, something sang in her. She wasn't sure if it was that glorious hymn from the church last month her strange friend sang, or if it was something from her youth. But something seemed to form inside her that showed its way outward.

Teeth clenched and dress crumpled from contact with her abusive husband, she unconsciously twirled her left finger. Instantly, the knitting went wild, the coffee pot blasted from the stove, and even the fire danced as if alive. There was a resolution within her suddenly that threatened to consume the entire house!

That was until she stopped twirling her finger.

That's when everything went still and Quinn, for all her seeming frailness and tenderness, stood up, and looked to the Heavens.

"Help me God!" she whispered, desperately searching the ceiling. "Help me... Sheriff Abrams..."

And that's when she remembered something Sheriff Abrams had said. Oh, it wasn't much and she knew it was taboo in that day and age to consider, but she had to look into it. There was something she HAD to do to survive and she was not surviving here and she knew it.

"Divorce." She said aloud.

With a little smile on her face, she had renewed vigor as she returned to the kitchen. After all, she had a little mess to clean up.

.


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean, no?!" Quinn vehemently asked.

"Mrs. Karofsky," the clerk responded, "we-"

"Please, do _not_ call me that! You can address me as my maiden name. Miss Quinn Fabray."

"Not yet, I can." He calmly replied. The little, squirrelly guy stood behind his counter at the courthouse and looked up at her. "As far as the law is concerned, you need your husband's permission to divorce. I cannot grant that, since he isn't here and has made no claims on your marriage."

"But…!" Quinn started, and then calmed down. Others around her looked at her and then resumed their business. "You don't understand. I _have_ to leave him."

"I'm sorry, Miss…" he hesitated and then continued. "Well, I don't know what to call you now. I know you want to divorce but you're a woman. You can't do this without your husband's permission."

"Oh, Mister!" she whined. "Isn't there any way around this?"

He slowly shook his head, speaking sympathetically. "I'm sorry. There isn't. Come back with your husband and then we can file the paperwork."

Defeat. She had been defeated in her attempt. And she took a risk escaping the house just to go to the courthouse that day. Quinn couldn't accept that a woman couldn't begin divorce proceedings. She looked over at the gorgeous grandfather clock in that courthouse and the time was 11AM. Dave would want his lunch in an hour and she knew she had to get home. She was running out of time.

Slowly, she turned and left the little clerk, who looked at her with a sad expression on his face. She emerged into the late morning sunshine of Lima, Ohio. All around her there were signs of normal city living and even happy lives. Women entered the bank, the drugstore, and even the icehouse. She was never allowed to do that and it burned a fire in her. Adjusting her bonnet and her dress, she pulled her egg basket closer to her and ignored the fiery pain in her abdomen.

That's when a thought struck her. The doctor!

Peering to the right, she saw the physician's symbol on the door. Her new friend Rachel told her previously that the doctor in there could cure a number of illnesses. He often didn't prescribe the dangerous and popular painkillers of the day, opting for natural sources like aloe vera and licorice. She squinted her eyes in the direction of the building and realized it was only three blocks away.

But she hesitated. Her husband did not want her to leave the house and she did. He'd want lunch at noon and it wouldn't be done. Rachel warned her of how dangerous Dave truly was and she didn't accept it at first. But right then, she did. There was a certain level of fun with being bad and Quinn partially smiled. A small boy ran around her, happily carrying a switch and swatting at flies as he ran. She widened her smile and hoped she could carry a baby someday. And that was all it took.

Determinedly, she glided down the stairs and walked across the road, towards the doctor's office. The summer sun was still hot and her belly ached terrifically. That just made her even more determined to disobey her husband and take care of herself. Quinn Fabray Karofsky was quite the liberal right then. And she knew it. On her way, she passed other mothers walking their children through town. A whiny girl complained of the heat and her mother berated her. Still, another mother carried a small boy, not much older than two, sound asleep in her arms. Quinn smiled. Oddly enough, with the hell to pay later, she was so, so happy.

She opened the door of the small office. There wasn't much there. A small desk, two wooden chairs, a ticking clock, and nothing else. The bells over the door sounded her arrival and at the end of the hall, the dapper doctor appeared.

"Hello! May I help you?"

"I hope so," Quinn said, taking a few steps forward, "I need some help."

"Of course. My name is Dr. Shuester. Will Shuester. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you too, Doctor. I'm Quinn Fab-…Karofsky." she said, coming to a stop a few feet away from him, "I appear to be having some pain in my belly."

"Oh!" he enthusiastically said, "Well, what's the pain like, Mrs. Karofsky?" He looked down towards her belly and she suddenly felt a little violated. Remember, this was 1892. Doctors rarely even touched women in examinations.

He cordially smiled. "Mrs. Karofsky, I'm a doctor. If I'm to find out what's wrong, I may need to do an examination." She looked even more alarmed, but he soothed her. "Really, Mrs. Karofsky. It's OK. I'm a professional."

She didn't quite believe him, but accepted his kindness nonetheless. "Alright, then. 'Tis a bit of a struggle to handle this awful pain. So I appreciate your kindness."

"Think nothing of it." He said. Then, he motioned towards the back rooms. "Please. Come in."

Over the course of the next half hour, Quinn endured an examination that clearly made her uncomfortable. He didn't just take her pulse or look into her eyes like other doctors did. He actually _touched_ her belly and even very quickly examined her private parts. Dr. Shuester soothed her as he proceeded but that didn't exactly work for her. Women were simply not touched in this way by a man that wasn't her husband. She quickly could see why Rachel thought he was different. And Rachel was right.

Finally, Dr. Shuester was done. But he was hardly satisfied. Quinn sat up, pulling her dress down. He turned and paced a few steps, index finger and thumb stroking his chin.

"Doctor?" Quinn asked.

But Will seemed completely saddened suddenly. His expression was serious when he turned to her and she feared the worst.

"I cannot find," he softly began, "anything physically wrong with you at all."

Stunned, Quinn exclaimed, "What?!"

He shook his head. "Medically, you appear to be in good health."

"But!… But that's not possible! What's causing this pain?"

"Well," he began, looking at a diagram of the human body, "there can be all kinds of causes for this." And then, he looked at her with a critical eye. "Do you have any children?"

She looked away. "No. My…husband and I are trying to."

"Hmmm."

Quinn eyed him carefully. "What?"

"Well, I can't figure it out. From what I know of the female…form, I can't see anything wrong with you." And then, he took a step towards her and whispered, "Are your cycles still happening?"

She quickly looked away. "Dr. Shuester!"

"Ma'am, I must know. Are they…?"

"Yestheyare." She quickly said.

He nodded. "Alright. And your husband? Is he…healthy?"

"Yes, as far as I know. He's a farmer, you see. He's in the fields right now. And he's expecting me home for lunch."

Quickly, she jumped off the table but was surprised to feel Dr. Shuester's hand on her bicep.

"Mrs. Karofsky…" he let go and sighed. Then, he smiled compassionately at her. "Even a doctor knows when things aren't right at home."

"They're fine, Doctor." Quinn annoyingly replied.

"Are they?"

She looked up at him in shock. "Really, Dr. Shuester! You have some nerve!"

He sadly smiled and said, "Hmmm... I thought so." She said nothing, so he continued. "If anything changes at home, let me know. But as far as I'm concerned, there's no reason why you're not pregnant and why this pain is occurring."

She stared at him for a long moment before straightening her bonnet. In a flash, she left the room and ran from the office. He watched her go and did nothing to stop her.

At the schoolhouse/church, Rachel watched her friend down the street practically flee the doctor's office and was instantly concerned.

Dr. Shuester resolved to look up a similar case. Quinn briskly walked towards home.

None of them found the answers they were looking for.

.

She was late. She was scared. And during the last half mile of her journey, she broke out into a sprint. The hot summer sun beat down on her, sweat pouring over her beautiful body. Her abdomen hurt so bad that she almost fell down. But she was determined to get home as soon as she could and struggled with the terrible discomfort.

As she ran, she noticed that same murder of crows from before. And surprisingly, she came to a stop, panting under the sun. She looked around to see if anyone was near her and when she saw no one, she risked taking off her bonnet. Her lovely blonde hair fell in rivulets along her shoulder and she pulled the hair up. Readjusting the bonnet, she secured it on her head and tied it under her chin. When she was done, she was just about to resume her journey when she looked up.

The murder of crows was staring at her. Briefly stunned, she looked back, noting how they weren't moving and they had to have been at least twenty yards away. They watched her in silence and she was momentarily concerned. Crows could become quite the problem in the farm community and even when you tried to prevent them, they would always come back. But even then, she knew she was safe and she even loved them. A little.

A chick was struggling to get some worms from its momma, who were the only birds moving. She smiled a little bit, noting how she'd like the baby to get food from its mother. So, in the end, she decided to help, in spite of herself. Quinn wiggled an index finger and every single worm in the nest danced in the air above the nest. Other crows noticed and honked. But once Quinn was sure the worms would eventually be in the baby's belly, she smiled and resumed her journey.

She made it home just in time.

Quinn blasted the door open and then quickly shut it. Abruptly removing her bonnet, she affixed her hair with a small pin from her satchel and immediately walked towards the kitchen. There, she assembled some vegetables that were already cut and threw them into the pot. The fire from that morning still had some embers and she smiled. Quinn placed a few small wooden pieces on them and very soon, a small fire appeared. After adding some water, salt, and thyme, she had the water to a boil.

She peered her head out the kitchen but couldn't see through the house's window very easily. Then, she marched out towards the door and opened it. Dave was returning on his carriage, whipping the horses mercilessly. Suddenly wide-eyed, Quinn slammed the door shut and ran back to the kitchen. Although the soup in the water was boiling, it wasn't very much. Quinn quickly added a few more blocks of wood to make the stew boil faster.

It didn't work!

Quinn heard the horses whinny. She was completely out of time.

A second later, Dave opened the door to the house.

"Wife! Lunch!"

Quinn looked at the pot and then right back up. "Yes, husband."

She snatched the most recent loaf of bread and cut a thin piece, the way her husband liked it. Then, despite the soup probably not being done enough, she scooped some into a bowl. After that, she placed both on a small tray and brought it to her husband.

Dave was stretching out an ache in his shoulder. Quinn used the opportunity as she placed the tray before him.

"Something wrong?" Quinn asked.

Dave groaned. "That darn horse fought me on the ride back here. It's swollen."

"Want me to take a look at it?"

He looked up and smiled for the first time in a long time. "No. I'm fine." Then, he turned his attention to the soup and bread. Quinn left to get him some fresh water. While she was gone, she heard a terrific clatter from the big room. She ran back in. Dave had thrown the bowl across the room!

"What in the hell is the matter with you, woman?!" He roared. He stood up, his imposing figure causing her to take an involuntary step backwards. "You know, I keep telling you that all I want is for you to do your duties. And you can't even do them right! Are you really that stupid?!"

"I…I'm sorry, husband." She bent down to clean up the mess. Dave took two more steps towards her.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I even married you." He growled. Quinn said nothing, cleaning up the potatoes and onions from the floor. "You know, when I think about it, I can see why no one would marry you when I did." Still, she said nothing. "In fact, I'm sure you're worthless. You can't cook. You can't clean. You can't sew! You can't have my children! You can't do _anything! What good are you?!_ "

Quinn suddenly stopped cleaning. In her knelt-down position, she stared at the wall, seeing nothing and everything so, so clearly. She could hear him panting as he towered above her. His tirade apparently over, he waited for her usual response. But when he didn't get it. He started in again.

"I should've married your sister." He said with a laugh. He turned and stared at the fire, his back to her. " _She_ was a fine woman. She knew how to do what you can't. And she could even-"

Suddenly he stopped talking. His eyes were wide, body frozen as if time and space had completely stopped. He was barely breathing. But the all-important fact was that he couldn't move. Or talk. Or _abuse._

Slowly, ever so slowly, Quinn stood up, brushing her hands off on her light blue dress, but keeping her index finger twirling in his direction. She hummed a little as Dave was paralyzed in his place. Quinn Fabray hardly looked at him as she turned and walked towards their bedroom. Her index finger was still spinning and Dave stayed in his catatonic state. He watched her as Quinn Fabray packed a gorgeous tan dress, her favorite hairbrush, and a lovely pair of black boots in a leather bag. After that was done, she continued twirling her finger and walked towards the kitchen. She grabbed a few potatoes and the bottle of Laudanum, placing them deftly in her bag.

After she gathered a few more things, including some of their money, she walked up to him. He _still_ stood there, as if his body was glued to the air and he couldn't move or function or even speak. Quinn continued to twirl her finger. And for the first time since their wedding night, she honestly smiled at him.

"Goodbye, husband." She softly said. "May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

His eyes couldn't have gotten wider. He didn't understand the Shakespeare reference. But he couldn't move or speak. Paralyzed still, he just stared at her. He probably tried to extend his arm towards her but another wiggle of her finger would put an end to that.

So, after a satisfied hum escaped her mouth, she opened the door and left. She walked past the barn and towards the road, her index finger still spinning and spinning. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Quinn Fabray actually felt happiness.

.


	5. Chapter 5

"Quinn! Two more orders of noodles and mash!"

"I'm on it!"

She hurried over towards the kitchen to serve her guests. The new and invigorated Quinn Fabray had become quite the hostess in this restaurant. She served customers and collected two-cent tips every time. This was quite the honor for her and she found she loved the devotion to hard work and quality food.

The Lima Manor served the best food in the city. And for her to get a job there, well, that was just what she needed. Brushing her blonde hair behind her ear, she ignored the male patrons who looked at her flirtatiously. Sure, she accepted a compliment here and there, but it was never serious. Instead, she used those opportunities to woo more customers to the restaurant, confident that she was redefining her life and wanting more of it.

"Sarah?" Quinn asked, as she entered the kitchen, "Some more people just came in. I think they like your noodles and mash!"

"Oh good!" the cute African American girl said, "I jus' know dey love my stuffin'!"

Quinn smiled. "Of course they do! You're the best cook in the county!"

The cute girl blushed. "Oh, hush now! I know you're foolin'!"

Quinn grinned even further and gathered two more plates of the delicious food. When she emerged, she could see even more people filtering in the place. She loved the work and money, but it was laborious and tedious as well. Hurriedly, she set the plates where they needed to go and quickly set two families at their respective tables.

Time moved rather quickly for Quinn these days. It's not like she had time to think about the pain in her abdomen. Although admittedly, it wasn't as severe as it once was. She didn't mind. In fact, Quinn Fabray found she liked the long hours, stressful situations, complaining customers, and most importantly, limited pain. As much as her ex-husband Dave pointed out, she was never addicted to Laudanum and actually hated it. Instead, she found she loved how she could get many men to eat seconds, which increased her tips.

In the evening, she would finally be able to breathe. There, she would light one kerosene lamp in her little hotel room above the restaurant and merely stop. When you're on your feet all day, just coming to a complete halt is a glorious thing. And Quinn wouldn't forget this.

Her room was simple – an iron-clad bed, white sheets, a desk, two kerosene lamps, and one window overlooking Main Street. Down below, many people were still going through their tasks for the evening. But that night, Quinn simply fell in bed and crashed. She loved that this bed had a relatively new invention to the modern bedframe – springs. She could actually bounce without falling onto the floor. In fact, she let herself go a little girly here and almost jumped on the bed. Wide smile on her face, she hopped on the bed, then off, then on, then off and then back on. It was amazing to see her smile so broadly as the late summer heat droned on. A fresh pitcher of water was nearby and she poured herself a cup. As she drank, she looked about her room.

It would definitely need a woman's touch. She realized that curtains would be needed and perhaps that wonderful portrait of her father would look good on the far wall. She smiled to herself, free from oppression and happy that she was having a good, honest living. Rachel would love this room and demand that Quinn do something more with this. And of course, Quinn would oblige. She was a woman of means. She wanted more out of life. Who doesn't?

Across the street, Dave stared up at her.

.

"Really, Quinn," Rachel began, folding napkins, "you _must_ have more flowers here. Sarah loves chrysanthemums and I do too. You should put some in some vases around here." She looked around the restaurant. "It's boring in here."

Quinn chuckled. "Oh, don't fuss. I will. Besides, I need your help with some curtains in my room. I never seem to decorate very well."

"Oh, that's a must!" Rachel exclaimed. "And I love doing that! You can never have a room that's warm enough for you, can you?"

Quinn again laughed. "No, you can't." She glanced at the clock and saw that it was approach 11:00 AM. "The lunch rush will be here soon." She turned back to her best friend and approached her. "Thank you so much for helping me here. You're not even being paid to do this."

"Oh, 'tis alright." The brunette said. "I like doing this. And doing chores around the church can be so tiring. And _boring_."

Quinn laughed out loud, bright as the sun. Just then, the first of the customers arrived for lunch. Quinn showed them to a table and left for the kitchen.

"Sarah?"

The dimpled African American young woman looked up from her rolling pin. "Yes?"

"The lunch rush has begun."

"Fine, ma'am."

Quinn suddenly went dark and marched up to her. "Please. Don't call me ma'am. We're friends, right?"

Sarah looked up, brushing some of her hair above her eye. "Oh, yes! I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sarah." Quinn softly said. "Let's just work. OK?"

"OK!"

The beautiful blonde smiled and returned to the dining room, where she saw Rachel actually showing other customers to their tables. Quinn didn't like that her friend was doing this but it was so helpful. She took a deep breath, straightened her apron and got to work.

She practically glided between the tables, taking orders, serving tea and water, providing mash and eggs for hungry customers, and even accepting healthy tips. Rachel returned to folding napkins and Sarah was wildly working in the kitchen. The bartender down the hall, a fat older man, smiled at them all.

Everything was going well as Quinn balanced five plates of vegetables and mash on her arms. Never afraid of hard work, she smiled as she did it. She heeded Rachel's advice about the flowers and resolved to get them for the next day. The door squeaked between the kitchen and dining room many, many times and she was off to her day.

The bells over the door clanged. Rachel looked up and smiled. She knew Quinn was busy in the kitchen and disobediently decided to help this customer to a table.

"Hello sir!" she enthusiastically said with a smile. "Can I show you to a table?"

But he stared towards the kitchen. He didn't even acknowledge her. Instead, his penetrating vision turned into a predator's glare as he watched the kitchen door. Rachel was confused and didn't exactly know what to do. Instead, she simply smiled at him.

"Sir?" she asked. "Would you like some vegetables and mash?"

"Sure." He quietly said, still not looking at her.

"Alright then. Let me seat you at a table."

"I want a table near the kitchen."

She narrowed her eyes a bit and said, "Alright. This way."

Rachel turned and was aware that this large man was following her. She didn't like it. Rachel walked with him to a table not too far from the bar and right around the kitchen door. When she turned around, she was astonished to see he was already seated, staring at the door.

"Can I get you some tea?" she asked.

"No. Go away."

She looked at him for just a moment and straightened. "Fine, then."

The fat, balding bartender watched the interaction and didn't like it. Rachel didn't like it either and returned to her table, folding napkins. Customers glanced at him and didn't care. A wall clock ticked, flies were swatted, and floorboards creaked from overuse. It didn't matter that this customer just wanted to stare at the kitchen door. If he was a paying customer, so be it.

That's when the kitchen door opened and Quinn emerged with two plates of food. She glanced up and walked towards the hungry customers at their table. Wide smile on her face, she placed them where they needed to go and asked if they needed anything else. When they indicated they didn't, she smiled even more and turned back towards the kitchen. And when she did, she came to a complete halt.

Dave stared up at her like a hunter. He watched her standing there as she minutely shook. Rachel glanced up at her, surprised by her sudden stillness. The bartender wiped the counter, served some whiskey and didn't notice. A fly landed on Quinn's hand and she simply twirled her index finger once. The fly disappeared.

Instantly, Quinn marched towards the kitchen, Dave's eyes on her the entire time. Just as she was about to push the door, he spoke.

"I want some lunch."

She came to a stop and looked at him. He glared up at her and partially smiled.

"Wife."

Quinn flipped her head towards the door and wouldn't look at her ex-husband. "I'm not your wife anymore."

"Yes, you are." Dave said with a grin. "And you're coming home to me. You don't leave me."

"Yes, I do." She resolutely said, _still_ not looking at him. "Stop calling on me. Leave me alone."

"I love you."

"Leave me alone."

Surprisingly, Dave said nothing. Instead, he looked up at her, seeing her profile and realizing he had her exactly where he wanted her. All too soon though, Quinn understood this and marched into the kitchen. When she arrived, she didn't completely know she was panting. She placed her shaking hands on the table, amongst spilled flour and dirty dishes. Quinn looked at those dishes, noting how she felt like those used plates.

Dirty. Ugly. Useless. Hated. Terrible. Stupid.

She quickly shook her head and stood up straight. Resolution back, she looked towards Sarah only to realize she was being stared at.

"I know," Sarah quietly said. "I know, Quinn…" She glanced at the kitchen door and then right back at the blonde beauty. "He…he's out there, isn't he?"

"No one's out there, Sarah."

"Y-yes, he is. He's out there and he's botherin' you."

Quinn said nothing. Sarah's voice grew soft.

"Don't you worry nuthin'! He ain't got nuthin' on you. You jus' stay here, Quinn. He won't mess wid you here."

Quinn dipped her head with a small smile and shook her head. "I just don't know why he's here."

Sarah stood up straighter and grabbed a pan. "'Cause he think he can. 'Cause he think he own womens. 'Cause he think he own you. But he don't. He _don't_!"

Quinn couldn't look at her. "I think I need two more bowls of soup and bread."

She tried to think of her job and everything she needed for her customers. She even considered what Sarah was saying to her. Instead, everything became muddled in her brain as she stared at the kitchen door. In that instant, every single accusation her ex-husband attacked her with suddenly became so clear. She did feel useless. She did feel unattractive. She did feel like she could never escape him…

"Stop dat!" Sarah snapped.

Quinn abruptly turned to her and stared at her in wonder. But she said nothing.

"Stop dat!" Sarah repeated. "You're foolin' yourself if you fall for his tricks again, Quinn!"

The blonde stared at the girl, who was supposed to be stupid and ignorant because of her race. But she clearly wasn't. In fact, she was far from it. Instead, Quinn realized this cute cook was right. She was absolutely right. Sarah didn't like the penetrating stares she received from her and simply got back to work. But there's something about painful truths that can say so, so much. And Quinn was quickly realizing that.

"You're right," Quinn whispered. "You're right about that Sarah."

Sarah didn't look up. She knew she was right. She even smiled just a little as she kneaded dough for noodles. Quinn knowingly smiled and watched Sarah grab two bowls of soup and bread for Quinn's customers. She handed them to her and Quinn smiled.

"Thank you, Sarah."

"Uh huh."

But Quinn stayed put until Sarah finally looked up at her. "I mean it. Thank you."

Sarah nodded and got back to work. Quinn turned and faced the door. She knew what would be waiting for her on the other side and she knew she could face it. An annoying fly buzzed near her forehead and she thought about wiggling her index finger at it until she remembered the delicious food in her hands. So with courage she always knew she had but recently forgot, she barged towards the kitchen door and _slammed_ it open!

Wide smile on her face, she bounced through the room and set the bowls in their place across the dining room. The family customers were very pleased as they inhaled the steam from the soup. They smiled up at her and she smiled back. A little boy at the table whined a little from teething and Quinn offered some toothache drops. But the family graciously declined. She smiled once again and said that the offer stood if they wanted. That's when the family relented and Quinn pulled out a small tin of cocaine drops for toothaches. It was such a common practice and as long as only one was given, it was relatively safe.

"Oh, miss?"

She turned her head and saw a woman sitting at a table, hand raised.

"I'll be right with you, ma'am."

The woman smiled. "Oh, thank you! You have the best food here in town!"

"Why, thank you!" Quinn gratefully said.

After checking if the child's toothache was better, she hummed her approval and the family couldn't have been happier. The bartender from afar watched, Sarah stayed out of sight as usual, and Rachel was sweeping. Quinn finally helped the lady customer as other patrons entered the restaurant.

Quinn was totally in her element. There's something to this, though. It builds energy, even though it's draining. It helps the self-esteem, something she didn't want to think about too much. And most importantly, it gives one a sense of self-satisfaction that she completely forgot she had. All in all, despite the heat and flies, she was happy and healthy. That was the first day she didn't take any Laudanum at all.

" _You're coming home!_ "

Silence. Complete, shocking, nerve-wracking silence filled the room then. Quinn whirled around and saw Dave standing up and glaring at her! His hazel eyes were wide, arms extended in a warrior's position, and feet firmly planted on the floor.

"I said you're coming home!" Dave roared. Sarah peeked her head out of the kitchen door to see what the commotion was and the bartender waved at her.

Sarah disappeared.

"I love you!" He yelled, taking a few advancing steps towards Quinn. "I love you! Why would you leave me?! You can't hurt me like this! How could you?! _How could you?!_ "

Patrons pretended their food was the best in the world. The fat bartender started to approach him until Quinn put her hand in the air. She considered using her index finger but didn't. Instead, the suddenly strong beauty decided to take this challenge head on.

"Go away, Dave." She firmly said. "I don't-"

" _Noooo!_ " Dave screamed. "I love you, don't you understand that? I need you. You have to come back. You have to come back. You have to come home to me. You have to come home to me." He started to wobble from side to side. "You _have_ to come home! You _have to!_ I love you and you can't leave me like this and-"

"Leave, Dave."

"-you think you can do this to me?! No way!"

The bartender finally approached the strange, waddling man. "Leave, sir."

"The hell I will!" Karofsky roared. "Not unless she's coming with me!"

"No, Dave." Quinn resolutely said. "I will not."

"Yes, you will! I told you, you will! What is the matter with you? I miss you! I love you! You're coming home because I _told you to_! Do it now, woman!"

Patrons gasped. The bartender seemed at a loss. Rachel was stunned. And only Quinn seemed to know how to handle this situation.

"Dave?" she softly asked.

"Y-yes?" he answered, thrown off a little by her softness. But she remained still.

"Go…away."

" _Nooooo!_ "

The bartender intervened. "Get out, mister."

"I will not leave," Dave vehemently whined, "until she comes with me!"

"Mr. Karofsky!"

This voice came from the door. Everyone was surprised to see Sheriff Artie Abrams standing in the doorway. Sarah, who had retrieved him, darted around the corner and ran to Quinn's side, but just slightly in front of her.

"I really think you should leave, Mr. Karofsky." Artie calmly said.

Dave snarled and spit on the floor.

"Leave, Karofsky." Artie said, but with more force.

Dave had never glared so hatefully at his ex-wife before. And this time when she looked, she definitely knew she saw his eyes glow red for just a moment. Dave closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and then exhaled, letting his eyes go back to the beautiful hazel.

He slowly walked towards the front door, eyes completely glued on Quinn. Customers stared at him, Sarah blocked his vision from time to time, and Artie stepped aside so he could leave. And just as Dave got to the door, he stopped. That's when one of the most terrifying things he could've ever done happened...

He smiled at Quinn.

"I know," he said, "what you can do." Quinn said nothing. "Don't hurt yourself with that finger of yours."

And with that, he tipped his hat to his ex-wife and left the building.

Quinn almost collapsed and probably would've had it not been for Sarah's arms holding her up. Artie quickly approached them with the bartender and Rachel in tow.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked.

"Ma'am?" Artie asked, his arm on Quinn's elbow. "Are you OK, Miss Fabray?"

She slowly shook out of her slumber and raised her eyes to this kind man.

"Miss Fabray…" she wondrously said. "Miss Fabray…"

"Yes, Miss Fabray." Artie said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." She said, straightening her apron and standing upright. "Yes, I am. Thank you, sheriff."

"Ain't nuthin', ma'am."

Then, she looked into his eyes and said, "Miss Fabray…" she smiled. "I quite like the sound of that."

.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes, evening rushes were worse. After the sun set, Quinn noticed she got more tips, but had more problematic customers. Drunken patrons from the bar would sometimes grope her and people in the dining area could be more impatient. The restaurant wasn't that big and there could be a line at the door of Lima Manor. Even though Rachel volunteered her time, she wasn't there most evenings.

Quinn was on her own.

Of course, she was distracted. It seemed like every time she passed the windows in the front, or the side, or behind the bar, she peered through them to see if she could see her ex-husband. It annoyed her but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was out there somewhere nearby. That feeling never seemed to leave her as she served customers, did her daily chores, strolled through town, or even went to bed. That's the thing about people in her position – they never feel truly alone.

Quinn was hot. Yes, she was an attractive woman, but her work made her hot and dehydrated. She didn't want to admit that she was behind in her work, but four tables hadn't received their dinners yet and the bartender started to glare at her. She didn't want to admit it, but Rachel's help would've been advisable. And Sarah couldn't come out and help, since she was too busy in the kitchen. The fat bartender wiped a counter, served his patrons and business just went on.

Quinn endured the complaints, yet accepted the compliments of fine food and nice tips. She turned around to go to the kitchen and as her eyes drifted through the front windows, she saw a flash of two red orbs across the street. She came to a stop and the red lights vanished. She didn't quite understand and simply got back to work.

The bells over the door clanged. Quinn didn't even look up. She reached for some dirty dishes from a table and scooped up her five-cent tip.

"Be with you in a moment!" she said.

"That's fine, ma'am."

That voice made her pause. She straightened and turned around. At the door stood Sheriff Artie Abrams. But instead of his usual uniform, he was wearing a very dapper navy blue suit with a loose tie, as was custom in those days. His black shoes clicked on the floor and his adorable smile brightened the room. Quinn almost immediately smiled.

"Sheriff Abrams!" she exclaimed. Then she calmed down a little. "Please sit wherever you like."

"Thank you, ma'am." He said, with a tip of his hat.

Immediately pleased, she took the dirty dishes in her hands just as Artie sat along the wall at a small table. She hurried into the kitchen and dropped the plates off. She stared at them, lost in her own little world of insecurity and uncertainness. Quinn Fabray was actually nervous.

"Quinn!" Sarah said.

She snapped out of it and responded, "Yes?"

But Sarah goofily smiled, "What's going on?"

"Nuthin'!"

"Uh huh."

"I swear, Sarah." She grabbed a fresh plate of beef stew and soda bread. "Sometimes, I swear…."

Sarah giggled and said nothing, getting back to work. Quinn approached the door and opened it with a smile.

The first thing she saw was Artie's smile. He was awkward and nervous and didn't seem very comfortable in his Sunday best. That made him all the more appealing to her and she breezed past him, serving the delicious food to a group of customers beyond him.

By that point in the evening, the rush had begun to slow down. No more customers came in at that point and those that were there were enjoying Sarah's cooking. The bartender no longer scowled, most of the drunks had left, and Quinn suddenly found that she had little to do. So, she took a chance. She walked over towards Artie and stopped before him.

"Sheriff Abrams?" she asked.

He looked up. "O-oh, please. Call me Artie. I'm not on…on d-duty now."

She grinned. "Alright, Artie. Would you like something to eat?"

"Ummm, yeah. Ummmm…" he sheepishly looked up at her. "I…I've never been here before."

She grinned even more. "I recommend the beef stew and bread. Our cook Sarah is excellent and I'm sure you'll like it."

He comfortably smiled. "That's fine, ma'am."

"Oh, please! Call me Quinn."

His smile faltered for just a second before he nodded to her. "Alright…Quinn."

She vanished into the kitchen, quickly grabbed a fresh bowl of stew and cut a specific slice of bread. Of course, she didn't cut it like she once did for her husband. She wanted to give Artie a _big_ slice of bread – something a real man would eat. Then, she ignored Sarah's smirks and dashed out of the kitchen.

"Here ya' go." Quinn happily announced, placing the food in front of Artie.

"That was quick." He said. Then, he corrected himself. "I mean, that's great, ma'am- I mean, Quinn. Th-thank you. Thank you!"

"Try it!"

Artie grabbed a spoon and dipped into the broth, scooping up the beef and potatoes. He gently breathed on it first and then slowly slipped it into his mouth. His eyes closed, his lips pursed, and a long hum of honest satisfaction fell from his full lips. He savored what was in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue and immediately wanting more and more. Quinn swallowed and watched, curious as to why she was suddenly a little uncomfortable.

"It's delicious!" Artie announced.

Quinn snapped out of it. "Oh! Oh, thank you! Sarah is the best cook in the county!"

"She sure is, Quinn!"

She smiled at him as he put another spoonful in his mouth. He savored the food and swallowed. Artie looked up at her and all too quickly, the moment of awkwardness hit them both. Quinn looked down and Artie placed his spoon back on the table.

"Would you…?" Artie began. He cleared his throat and added, "Would you care to-?"

"Oh miss?"

Quinn looked up at the female customer across the way. "I'll be with you in a moment!" Then, she looked back at the sheriff. "Yes?"

He looked away. "Nothing."

She compassionately smiled at him. "I'll be right back."

He didn't look at her as she quickly approached the customer. But when she arrived, she took her order for more tea and walked towards the kitchen. She had no idea Artie was watching her the entire time.

A few minutes later, Artie was nearly done with his stew and soda bread. He found he loved the monstrous cut of bread dipped in the broth. The rich fat and thyme in it made him want a second bowl, but he was too ashamed to ask for seconds. He straightened his tie a little and hated his shoes, which he felt weren't polished enough. And as if it were a fun twist of fate, he had no idea Quinn was watching him.

With a firm intake of breath, Quinn returned to him.

"I can see," she said, "that you like Sarah's cooking."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Oh, it was very good. Very good…indeed. Very good."

"Would you like more?"

"Oh no! No, ma'am- I mean, Quinn. Thank you. That's most kind."

Her grin would leave her face. "I'm just happy you came."

Artie's eyes grew wide for a second and then he cleared his throat. He quickly looked about the room and only saw a handful of people left in the restaurant. So, he decided to get brave.

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"Would you…?" once again, he cleared his throat unnecessarily, "Would you like to…j-join me?"

Taken aback, Quinn stared at him for a moment before softly smiling. "Well…I'm at work." Artie looked a little disappointed. "Then again, I don't think Sam the bartender would mind _too_ much."

His stunning smile filled their little space then, just as Quinn sat across from him. They watched each other for a moment, letting this detail or that fact permeate their minds. Silence can often be golden, but it can be a distraction as well. They didn't really know what to say to each other. And just as Quinn thought of something, Artie beat her to the punch.

"So," he suddenly began, "how have you been?"

"Oh! Very well, thank you."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, Artie."

He lowered his voice. "What about…?" Quinn looked at him quizzically. "You know… Him."

Quinn shook her head for the briefest of moments. "He hasn't bothered me since that day you stopped him."

He proudly smiled. "Well, taint nuthin'…"

She grinned again. "Yes, it was. You were most helpful that day."

A warm blush filled his face. "Well, taint nuthin'. I mean he was botherin' you and if he keeps it up, I'll just put him in jail."

But her smile suddenly vanished. "On what charge?"

He placed his hands on his lapels and proudly said, "Botherin' a purdy lady!"

Quinn dipped her head. She refused to let him see her smile, but he did anyway.

"Well, I best be getting on with my work. Would you like some tea, Artie?"

"Sure thing!"

"I'll get it for you."

And with that, she slowly stood up. He watched her delicate hands, the hair begging to come out from her bonnet, and slow, confident stroll towards the kitchen. A few minutes later, she added some honey to the tea and twirled her index finger to stir it. It wasn't until she was in the dining room that she realized what she was doing. Abruptly, she stopped spinning her finger and approached him.

"Here ya' go, Artie."

He took the glass from her hand, their fingers grazing each other briefly.

"Thanks, Quinn."

"Sure!"

Then, he grew serious. "I mean it, Quinn. Thank you. You're…" He blushed again. "You're sumthin' else."

A twinge of happiness soared through her then. She couldn't stop smiling! "You're very welcome, Artie."

He took a sip of the tea and hummed approvingly. "It's good!"

"Good!"

Then, he looked at her a little more deeply. "Perhaps…"

"Yes?"

Once again, he unnecessarily cleared his throat, hating how tight his tie seemed. "Well, perhaps…one day…you and I could have dinner-"

"Miss!" This voice came from afar. "Could I have more tea?"

She looked up. "Coming right up!"

Quinn left. Artie looked down. And the tea sat on his table.

Over the course of the next half hour, the bar completely emptied and only one other customer was in the dining room, besides Artie. They continued to talk and share a few things. They even agreed to have dinner. Quinn was so caught off guard by the gentleman caller proposal that she didn't know how to respond. But his kindness seemed to overwhelm her and she happily agreed.

Soon, Sam the bartender was turning down the kerosene lamps in the bar and Artie finally got to see Sarah from afar, who was sweeping and placing chairs on the counter. Quinn returned to him and happily smiled.

"Artie? We're getting ready to close. Would you like some leftover stew to take home?"

He immediately stood, noting how she and him were the same height. "Oh, no Quinn. I'm full and I should probably get going. I have a big day tomorrow."

"Oh?" she asked, scooping up some dirty plates nearby, "What's going on?"

"Well," he said, sauntering over towards her, "we still have those darn animal disappearances from farms and I have a meeting at the courthouse." And then, he braved another step closer to her. "In fact, I have a divorce to do as well."

She stared into his blue eyes, seeing just how azure they really were. "Oh. I s-see."

"Yeah…"

Nobody said anything and breathing stopped. He swallowed and she couldn't seem to function very well suddenly. He watched her breathing turn shallow and she in turn looked at his beautiful blue eyes.

"Well…" she said.

"Well…" he said.

Doing what he knew to do, he simply tipped his hat towards her and smiled. "Good night, Quinn."

"Go-good night, Artie."

He half-smiled, placed the hat on his head, and strutted over towards the door. Just as he pulled the handle, he turned back towards Quinn, who hadn't moved from her spot. Another warm smile adorned his face and after that, he opened the door and left. Just two seconds later, she watched him walking on the sidewalk past the window. He came to a stop. She looked at him curiously, not sure what would happen.

Then, Artie suddenly ripped his tie away from his throat and victoriously thrusted his hands in the air! She laughed a little and stopped herself. Artie then continued down the walk and was out of sight. Quinn turned around and finished clearing his table. His was the last one of the night and she didn't seem to mind doing this task at all. When his bowl and cup were secured in one hand, she used her finger to lift his chair up in the air and set it upright on the table.

She was tired. She was hot. She was sweaty. She wanted to sleep.

Oh, and she was incredibly happy, too.

.


	7. Chapter 7

She was running.

Bonnet on her head and dress hiked up, she ran through the streets of downtown Lima. Her basket of cakes and pastries was shaking but she didn't care. Quinn just couldn't shake the feeling she was being followed. Her labored breathing matched her increased heartrate as she ran, looking behind her from time to time.

Citizens looked at this lone, running woman like she was crazy. But Quinn was far from it. Instead, she was a person who was being hunted and she was the prey. Her wide eyes scanned everywhere – left, right, behind her, in front of her. She wasn't safe and she was totally scared. He had to be somewhere near her…right?

When she reached the schoolhouse/church, she veered right and increased her speed. Her lungs hurt from the exertion but she had to make it to Rachel's house. She just had to!

Crows cawed overhead. She looked up and it was unusual to see them flying in the nighttime sky. At first, it was only one or two. But after awhile, the allegedly dirty birds soon hovered overhead, casting the nighttime sky into an even darker realm. She shivered as she ran, even though the Indian Summer raged on.

Suddenly, she almost collided with a carriage! Grinding to a halt, the driver snarled at his horses to a stop and Quinn ignored his epithets. Opting for survival, she ran past them. One of the horses whinnied wildly, but Quinn had experienced this before. When she was beyond their reach, she wiggled her index finger and the upset horse came to a stop. When that was done, she bolted towards the Hudson's house.

 _Bang, bang, bang, bang!_

Quinn was completely out of breath when she rapped on their door and couldn't stand up straight. She madly turned around, looking and looking. The crows still hovered overhead and didn't completely understand why.

"C'mon! C'mon!" she wailed. Bang, bang, bang, BANG!

An idea hit her. The crows were squawking so noisily that she took one of her cinnamon biscuits out of her basket and threw it at them. Then, she directed her finger to make it hover in the air. The birds flew right to it and completely ignored her.

That's when the front door opened.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed.

But the blonde beauty raced inside the door. "Shut it!"

Exasperated, Rachel slammed it shut and locked it. Quinn felt like she could finally breathe, gasping as she was. She took a few moments to collectively close her eyes and gather herself. Her heartrate wouldn't go down already!

A male voice asked, "May I-?"

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

Quinn whirled around to see that tall, lanky man suddenly shrink back at her scream. But when she recognized him as the church sexton and Rachel's husband, she placed her hand over her heart. Both Rachel and Finn slowly approached her.

"Quinn?" Rachel softly asked. "Are you OK?"

Quinn took a deep breath and dropped her hand. "Yes… Yes, I am. Now."

Rachel and Finn glanced at each other and she approached the stricken blonde. "Well, sit please. Finn? How about some tea?"

"S-sure." He said. He left for the kitchen. But Quinn stared at him in wonder.

"Your husband," Quinn began, "actually… _enters_ the kitchen?"

Rachel smiled. "Well, of course! We share in many duties here, just like in God's house."

 _In God's House._ Quinn thought those were the most amazing words she'd heard in a long time. Her only response was a smile. Rachel patted her gently on the shoulder just as Finn re-entered the room.

"I hope…" he began, "I hope you like this." He placed the steaming teacup on the edge of the table and quickly backed away.

Quinn looked up at him. "I humbly apologize, Mr. Hudson. I haven't…been myself lately."

Finn awkwardly smiled and said, "'Tis alright, ma'am. I know we haven't met yet, but I'm Finn Hudson."

"I know." She responded with a smile. "And I'm awfully sorry about that. I've just been…"

Rachel pleasantly intervened. "Please, Quinn. Have a sip. It's licorice tea!" Quinn looked at her like she was crazy and Rachel immediately understood. "I know. Many people don't like the taste of it, but it's soothing and sweet. It's Finn's favorite. He makes it often!"

Quinn looked up at this unusual man. She had never encountered an Ohio _man_ who would do such domestic things. Gratefully, she took a sip of the tea and her face scrunched. Rachel laughed.

"Yes," Rachel amiably said, "it's not very good. But it's good for sore throats and good for the heart…I think."

"Oh," Quinn sadly started, "I think I need that lately. A lot more often, I believe."

Rachel sat down beside her while Finn hovered nearby.

"Why are you so frenzied?" Rachel asked.

Quinn set her teacup down along with her basket of pastries. "Oh! Would you both care for some-?"

"No, Quinn. We don't."

Quinn noticed Rachel's serious tone and Quinn wasn't completely aware she was trying for a delaying tactic. In the end, Quinn took a deep breath and decided to open up. A crow landed on the windowsill outside the house window.

"I can't shake the feeling…" Quinn began, "that I'm being followed…"

"By whom?" Finn asked.

"I think we can guess," Rachel interrupted, "on _who_ has been pestering her lately."

Finn didn't get it. So he just sat down, pulled out his pocketknife, and fiddled with some wood to make clothespins. Rachel turned her attention back to her.

"You _must_ use caution, Quinn. But I strongly suggest that you keep Sheriff Abrams informed of all of this."

 _Sheriff Abrams_. Just the mention of his name put a little warmth in her heart. She thought back to the other night, when he was so nervous in front of her. If the truth could be told, she was just as anxious. She stared off at the far wall, ignoring the hearth and lighted kerosene lamps. The soft firelight gave an even warmer glow to the room that almost matched her heart. She had no idea she was being scrutinized by a former Jewish friend.

Quinn suddenly turned to her and saw Rachel's eyes narrowed. "What?"

A smile wormed its way on Rachel's face. "You're sweet on him!"

"Am not!"

"Am _too!_ "

Quinn looked down, trying not to laugh. "Are you sure you don't want any pastries-?"

"No. Now, talk, Quinn. Did anything happen…?"

The blonde reached for her teacup. "Oh no! Nothing of the sort! I'm not that kind of lady!"

"Of course you're not!" Rachel calmly said. But then, that ornery smile came back. "But you _are_ sweet on him."

Quinn finally smiled to her. "Well…"

Rachel clasped her hands together! "I knew it! Sheriff Abrams is a fine man!"

"He handles divorces." Finn oddly said.

Rachel glared at him, but Quinn barely reacted.

"Yes, I know."

The brunette stared at her. "He does? And you know what that means?"

"Oh, yes." Quinn confidently said. "Oh, yes I do. In fact…"

Both Rachel and Finn looked at her. "What?" they asked.

But Quinn wasn't sure what to say here. She was talking to staunch Christians and it was very risky in the late nineteenth century to discuss terrible topics such as divorce. She weighed her options and decided to take a chance.

"Sheriff Abrams," Quinn whispered, "has _twice_ suggested I divorce."

Rachel and Finn gasped. But after a moment or two, Finn stood and began walking to the kitchen again.

"Good riddance." He said.

"Mr. Hudson!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Unfortunately," Rachel sadly said, "I agree with Finn."

"Rachel!"

"Well, look at what he's done to you! You're a frazzled mess and he's made you this way." She reached for a biscuit and took a hefty bite. "When I was Jewish, divorce was unheard of, but I have heard of one or two Christians who have…" she swallowed, "divorced. And he's a cruel, cruel man Quinn."

"You don't know him like I do." Quinn quietly defended.

"I know enough. I know exactly enough! And as God is my witness, I will _not_ let him harm you!"

"Me too!" Finn chimed in from the kitchen. The sound of clanging bowls filled the air then and it dawned on Quinn that he was going to serve dinner. A _man_ was going to do that!

"I'm…" But Quinn faltered. She looked down at the hem of her dress, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "I'm…scared."

Rachel placed her comforting hand on Quinn's. But the blonde suddenly yanked it away! She didn't want to wiggle her finger and harm her friend. It could happen.

It could.

Rachel ignored it. "Listen, Quinn. Being a Christian, I can't condone divorce. But he's dangerous. I could even argue that he's…" her voice lowered, "evil. You _must_ get away from him at all costs."

Quinn said nothing.

"And not only that," Rachel continued, " _you_ must draw your attention to Sheriff Abrams. He has character."

The crow outside the window kept its eye on Quinn. Rachel and Finn did too. Moments of silence passed and a tear threatened to fall down Quinn's cheek. But in the end, her strength wore on. Having enough confidence to thank her friend properly, Quinn clasped Rachel's hand. Together, the two women vowed to help the stalked blonde. And no one would stop them.

"Dinner is served!"

They looked up to see Finn carrying in some bowls of beef stew and non-alcoholic apple cider. Even more surprised, Quinn couldn't believe that Finn presented her with a lap napkin. She heartily thanked him and didn't know what to think about anything anymore. All she knew was that she was in a loving home, where there was a good man and a good woman, and they were happy and healthy.

 _The Lord's Prayer_ was recited by Finn and after that, all three began to eat. Quinn eagerly enjoyed the delicious broth, which had different spices than her own stew. She loved not knowing what they were and could see that she was welcomed and loved.

There's something empowering about those moments in life.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked.

"Yes?" Quinn answered, wiping her mouth.

"There's something I want you to promise us."

The blonde took notice of both of them and gave them her unyielding attention. "Yes?"

Rachel boldly said, "I want you to divorce David Karofsky."

And right when Quinn was about to protest, the crow outside left and Finn spoke with his mouthful.

"I'll star da diorce paerwork for you."

.

 _Bam_ …. _Bam_ … _Bam!_

"You see this?!" Dave roared. "Do you see this, you fucking son of a whore?!"

Artie looked up from the floor, trying his best to shield his face and ribs. But Dave smashed his head again!

"You fucking see this?!" Dave screamed. "This is my wife's skillet! My _wife!_ And I will be…" he chuckled a little bit, "I'll be good and _goddamned_ if you take my wife away from me!"

Artie turned on his side away from him. He choked air out of his lungs and his vision was blurry. Ribs ached, his world spun, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Dave raise the cast iron skillet high in the air like a caveman.

 _Baaaaam!_

Artie groaned and Dave smiled.

"That's right, _lawman_!" The brute hollered. "That's right, ya' fucker! You come here and bring me divorce papers?! Fuck you! I _got your divorce papers!_ "

 _Bam!_

"Annnnnnnd another thing!"

 _Bam!_

"I will not…!"

 _Bam!_

"Let you…!"

 _Bam!_

" _Take her from meeeeee!"_

 _Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam!_

Blood trickled out of Artie's mouth. He could no longer see. Absentmindedly, his left hand extended towards Dave as he tried to do something. But Dave didn't care. Instead, he inspected his skillet that he bought for his wife on their wedding night. It had a few dents in it, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with enough elbow grease. And then, he looked down at the bloodied, battered mess of Sheriff Abrams.

"One more should do it…" Dave muttered. He smiled down at Artie, loving how the blood seeped from every orifice in Artie's face. Dave clasped the skillet in both hands and raised it far above his head. But suddenly, he paused.

"See you in hell…"

 _Quinn…_ , Artie thought.

 _BAM!_

.


	8. Chapter 8

"I still am."

"I _know_ ," Rachel began, "that you _say_ you're happy, but are you really?"

"Of course, I am Rachel." Quinn said placing some used glasses on the bar. The fat bartender Sam silently picked them up. "I mean, I have my own life now, away from Dave, and I'm trying to start over."

But Rachel knew the real story. "I don't think you realize this Quinn, but you have had a daily visitor outside this restaurant for the past few days."

Quinn didn't have to look. She already knew he was there. She didn't even bother to turn and peer out the window. Dave had been standing out there, across the street, staring at her every single day. And who knows where he was during the nights?

Rachel sighed. "We have to do something about him."

Quinn grabbed a tray of dirty dishes. "There's nothing that can be done."

"By God, I think I will-!"

Suddenly, a soft breeze flowed through the room. Involuntarily, the women looked where it came from and found their eyes drifting towards the front window. They took a few steps towards it, coming to a surprising halt together. And when they looked onwards, they were astonished.

Dave disappeared.

Quinn dropped the tray and ran to the kitchen! She checked to make sure the kitchen door was locked (the fourth time that day) and then ran to the rear entrance, which was already locked as well. Rachel watched her friend fly around the restaurant as some mid-afternoon patrons stared at her curiously. The fat bartender Sam also watched Quinn. He made sure his 2x4 was handy under the bar.

Finally, she came to a breathless stop, leaning against the kitchen door. Panting heavily, her eyes drifted over towards Rachel.

Rachel also sighed. "You can't live this way, Quinn."

She pushed herself off the wall and walked towards her. "I have no choice."

Rachel slowly stood up. "Perhaps Sheriff Abrams can help."

Quinn briefly smiled at the mention of his name and grabbed some glasses that Sam handed her. "No. I don't want to trouble him. Besides, he has a lot of things to do lately. Did you hear about those animals being taken from farms in the area?"

"No."

"Well, he's working on that. As far as I know, he doesn't have any suspects yet."

Rachel sat back down. "That's troubling."

"Yes, 'tis."

The women were silent for a bit. The lunch rush would start soon and work would interfere with their thoughts. And fears. Sam prepped the whiskey bottles for pouring, Rachel folded napkins, and Quinn busied herself with little details. That's when she suddenly smiled.

"I forgot something, Rachel."

The brunette looked up. "Oh? What?"

Quinn genuinely smiled. "I forgot to ask Sarah for some chrysanthemums for the dining room."

Rachel's eyes brightened. "Oh, yes! You must. That would be perfect for this place."

"I agree. I believe she's in the kitchen." Quinn said, crossing towards the swinging door. "I'll go ask her. Watch the restaurant, OK?"

"OK!"

With that, Quinn pushed the door open. Her smile faded a little when she didn't see Sarah. There were mixing bowls, cooking ingredients, fresh water for washing, and even warming butter on the counter. She peered around the room, noticing that flies were starting to accumulate in the room. This meant that Sarah hadn't been there in quite a while.

Quinn frowned.

"Sarah?" she called out. Quinn moved over towards the oven, which she never touched because it was so hot. But when she arrived, the oven was cool.

Sarah never lighted it.

Quinn didn't like this at all.

"Sarah?" she called out again. Quinn looked in the little pantry and immediately returned. _Maybe she's cooking out back._

That thought in mind, she marched towards the back door. But before she unlocked it, she carefully scanned the area. She could see the big cauldron for soups, stews, and sometimes broth. A large collection of firewood was under it and it was unlit. There were a variety of tools used for cooking large amounts of food laying around and two buckets of water sat by the other firepit, completely untouched.

Then, she scoured for any signs of her ex-husband. Quinn could never be completely satisfied that he wasn't around, as is the case with many stalking survivors. Nevertheless, she observed the grounds very carefully, left to right and back again. With no sign of Dave, she unlocked the door and slowly opened it. The door creaked and she slid through to the back steps, making sure to leave the door open. The late morning sun blinded her eyes a little and she raised her hand up to her eyes as a shield.

"Sarah?"

No response. Quinn descended the stairs, one step at a time.

"Saraaaaah?!"

Nothing. She was now beyond concerned. She was worried. Quinn walked over towards the cauldron and saw that nothing had been prepared. This wasn't making any sense at all.

"What in the world?" Quinn muttered. She wildly looked around and couldn't figure out what was going on. She also noticed that there was no breeze whatsoever. The slight hill behind the restaurant was so eerily still and settled.

Near the firepit, a hog for slaughter lied there, ugly and undignified. Sarah should've prepared that a while ago. And yet, it lied on the ground, tongue hanging out of its snout, eyes hollowed and vacant. Sarah hadn't even laid out tools necessary to gut the hog! No knives, no trowels, no anything. Quinn didn't want to look at it anymore and continued her scan.

"Sarah?!"

Hearing nothing in response, she turned, hiked up her dress, and fast-walked over to the back door. She was panting, fear starting to creep in. Quinn had to tell Rachel and Sam that Sarah was nowhere and that they needed to look for her. As she reached the first step, her eyes were trained there and something caught her attention underneath.

Quinn screamed!

Sarah was lying under the staircase. Her dress was torn and her eyes were wide as if in terror. Her mouth was askew and bloodstains were all over her. Fresh knife wounds covered her torso, belly, and private area. Quinn covered her mouth, trying and trying not to scream again. She became mute. Eyes wide and in shock, she just stared at Sarah's corpse. Blood pooled by Sarah's shoulder and Quinn thought she would vomit. A sudden breeze blew by and Quinn thought she heard a short laugh far off in the distance.

Some of Sarah's dress was blown upwards, revealing her bloomers. Quinn quickly and bravely rectified the situation, pulling down Sarah's dress. Fresh tears flowed down Quinn's face and she struggled to comprehend everything she'd just seen. But it's so hard when someone you love has been murdered.

Sam and Rachel arrived at the top of the stairs.

"Quinn?" Rachel yelled. Sam repeated the name.

"D-down h-here." Quinn softly said.

The other two stared down and their eyes bulged. Quinn wiped away a tear and looked back at Sarah's face. And when she did, she realized there was something there – something that looked like words. In fact, Quinn leaned closer and could read something cut on Sarah's forehead…

"YOU'RE NEXT."

.

A little while later, Rachel closed the restaurant. Sam and Rachel went to get Sheriff Abrams. And Quinn proceeded with the common custom of death in those days – she covered Sarah's body with a cloth and stopped all of the clocks in the restaurant. She barely noticed the time was 10:10AM – an ironic time to die. But Quinn never thought of these things and wouldn't ever.

Quinn considered preparing the body for a funeral. But Sheriff Abrams would need to do some kind of investigation. She then was sure of that. So Quinn didn't really have anything to do. Instead, she took one last look at the body and ran back into the restaurant.

Quinn couldn't sit still. She roamed around the restaurant in a stupor. Not really going anywhere, she couldn't believe what had just happened. Sudden and tragic events are always like that. One never gets used to them.

It was a strange experience being in Lima Manor alone at this time of day. Normally, the lunch rush would've started. Sam would be pouring drinks. Rachel would be smiling and chastising. Quinn would be the ever-perfect hostess. And Sarah would be-

Quinn shook her head. Folding her arms across her belly, she didn't even lock the back door.

Suddenly, Rachel and Sam came back through the front door.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed, running towards her. They briefly hugged as Sam looked on.

"Rachel." The blonde said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she confidently replied. "She's in God's hands now."

 _God's hands._ Quinn bristled a little at that but let it go. She didn't want her friend Sarah in Heaven yet. Not just yet. But there it was.

"Yes." Quinn agreed. "Yes, she is."

Sam stepped forward. "We didn't see Sheriff Abrams."

"What?!" she all but yelled.

"That's right." Rachel began, folding her hands together, "We didn't see him in his office or anywhere."

Quinn thought for a second. "Perhaps he's out doing his job."

"He didn't leave a note on his door like he usually does." Sam observed.

"'Tis very strange." Rachel said.

"Yes, 'tis." Quinn agreed. Then, she waved her hands in the air. "Well, what should we do?"

"I can't have her near the restaurant." Sam selfishly said. "That's bad for business."

"Bad for business?!" Rachel exclaimed. "Have some respect for the dead!"

"I know, I know!" Sam said, walking around them to the bar. "But I got a life too, ya' know!"

Rachel huffed and Quinn looked puzzled. The brunette noticed.

"What's wrong, Quinn? I mean, I know what's _wrong_ but it seems like something else is-"

"Did you see…Sarah?"

Rachel looked at her curiously. "Of course I did! She's been…"

Quinn shook her head a little and abruptly clasped Rachel's arms. "No. No, Rachel. I mean, did you _see_ her?"

"I…I don't know what you're driving at."

Quinn let go. "Then perhaps you should see for yourself." She grabbed Rachel's hand and determinedly walked towards the back door.

"I don't want to see her again!" the brunette whined.

"C'mon!" Quinn said with another yank to Rachel's hand. "You need to see this!"

Led by Quinn, they walked through the kitchen and down the back porch. They quickly spun around and kneeled down by the covered body.

"Steady yourself." Quinn sternly said. Rachel swallowed. Just then, Quinn pulled back the tablecloth covering her body and Rachel held back her bile. But Quinn stood up and pointed at Sarah's forehead.

"There." She said.

Rachel braved a closer look and instantly regretted it. Immediately, she backed up, tripped on her dress, and scooted on her butt backwards. Then, she turned and hurled. Her breakfast dotted the landscape and went on and on until there was nothing left. But Quinn was rooted to the spot. Convinced that no one would see, she twirled her index finger. Slowly and tenderly, some of Sarah's luscious black hair dropped and covered the ugly message on her forehead. Quinn stopped spinning and couldn't look anymore.

She turned to her friend Rachel and helped her up. Together, uniting as strong women and strong survivors, they re-entered the Lima Manor. And when they were inside, Quinn made sure to lock the door. A quick glance semi-assured her that they would not be disturbed and could wait for Sheriff Abrams in peace. Silently, they were appreciative of this and could see Sam was even more worried. Granted, he was worried for selfish reasons, but he kept a protective eye on the women.

"Where _is_ Sheriff Abrams?" Rachel haphazardly said, sitting down.

Quinn did the same beside her. "He's probably out doing something important."

Sam spoke up. "He better be."

Nothing happened after that. Eyes stared off into the distance and somebody was whispering _The Lord's Prayer_. Sam had a quick shot of whiskey and the women just sat there, somewhere between time and space. Nothing had been prepared for lunch that day and wouldn't be.

Outside, downtown Lima was in full swing. A few people stopped to peer into the windows of the restaurant and then walked on. If they saw the three sad people in there, they didn't say anything. Regardless, carriages were driven, banks handled money, Dr. Shuester saw more patients, and life went on.

Two blocks away, Dave smiled.

.


	9. Chapter 9

AN -

Warning - this chapter is tense and suspenseful. There is a very brief torture scene.

* * *

.

The day didn't stop. The proud citizens of Lima, Ohio went about their daily lives, working, praying, eating, and anything else they wanted to do. Children continued to run throughout the streets, enjoying their summer vacation. They often scooped up horse manure and girls put their bonnets on, like their mothers. Fathers weren't seen too often. Since real labor laws didn't exist in 1892, they were often stuck in factories or on their farms for twelve or fourteen hours a day. Stores were open, boys sold newspapers from other cities, President Harrison promised he'd lower taxes and import tariffs, and the world still revolved.

Quinn thought of these things as she lumbered around the Lima Manor restaurant. She was an incredibly worried woman these days. Sarah was dead. Sheriff Abrams was nowhere to be found. Rachel went off to find Finn and bring him to the restaurant. And Sam…well, Sam was around. Still though, she'd never felt so alone. She looked up.

Across the street, there was a gristmill that ground wheat, rye, barley, and the like for a variety of products. She didn't really think of anything. Numb to her recent experiences, she didn't even consider looking for Dave. Instead, arms folded around her babyless belly, she turned and waddled back inside the restaurant, locking the door behind her.

Sam was cleaning some alcohol bottles. He didn't pay her any attention. Quinn sighed. Her eyes drifted towards the kitchen and she didn't want to think about what or who was beyond the door. Every time she saw the look of terror in Sarah's eyes, she shivered. There was nothing to do in the restaurant except to wait. And wait. And wait.

Another sigh escaped Quinn's mouth. Sam had retreated into the back, presumably to get more barrels of beer or something. Out of boredom and grief, she looked at a portrait of a major railroad station in downtown Lima. It was a little crooked and could've been straightened. She knew what to do. And when she was done wiggling her finger, the picture was straight.

She didn't understand this power. Yet she wasn't afraid of it. Rather, she saw it as a companion, an extra-special way to help herself. And perhaps the world. For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled.

Quinn glanced around the room. Tables had been prepared for the lunch rush. It was still eerie to be in there without very many people. As she scanned the room, she could see some chrysanthemums on a few tables and the bar. A dash of sadness enveloped her when she thought of the gaudy flower. It was Sarah's favorite.

She shook her head and paced around again. Sam was still gone and a few flies were annoying her. The room felt a little stuffy and she wanted to open some windows. But with the threat of a stalker in the area, she couldn't take that risk.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the front door. She turned and saw Rachel and Finn standing outside. Briskly, Quinn walked to the door and opened it. The happily married couple entered, Quinn shut it behind them, and locked the door.

"About time you got back." Quinn muttered.

"We tried to find Pastor Figgins," Rachel began, removing her bonnet, "to do a blessing for Sarah, but we couldn't find him. I think he goes to Findlay in the mornings."

"I see…" Quinn said. Rachel watched her as Finn looked around the room.

"I've never been in here." He softly said, scanning the upscale restaurant.

"Finn," Rachel admonished, "this isn't a social call. There's been a murder here!"

"I know!" He whined. That didn't stop him from looking around. That's when Sam had returned.

"Oh!" Quinn said. "Sam, this is Rachel's husband, Mr. Hudson."

"Hello." Sam gruffly said, dropping a beer barrel on the floor. Finn smiled at him, but it faded as he watched Sam leave the room. Finn turned to the women.

"Friendly sort, huh?" He said.

"Well," Quinn offered, "he's just distracted by…"

"Yeah…" He said.

"Anyway," Rachel loudly began, "we looked again for Sheriff Abrams and couldn't find him. We still haven't seen a note on the door and we're…well…" she glanced at Finn and then right back to Quinn, "we're getting worried."

"Oh, I'm sure 'tis fine." Quinn politely said, "I'm sure he's just out doing his job. Someone is stealing farm animals in the area." Then she glanced down. "I…wasn't supposed to say anything about that."

"Oh, 'tis alright." Rachel said, stroking Quinn's arm. "And I'm sure you're right. I'm sure a man in his job is very busy."

"He didn't leave a note," Finn curiously began, "on his office door like he usually does. And a murder is much more important than theft."

"You're goddamn right it is!" Sam suddenly said, who just arrived at his bar. "I can't have this around my business. You three keep quiet about this!"

"Really, Sam!" Rachel said. "I can't see-!"

"We will." Quinn interrupted, softly touching Rachel's shoulder. "We will, Sam."

The burly bartender nodded and retreated to the back of the bar. Quinn removed her hand and Rachel looked at her with half-betrayal in her eyes.

"He's just scared, Rachel. Like all of us are."

The brunette thought for a second and then nodded.

"Still," Finn said, "I think we should at least ask around to see where Sheriff Abrams might be."

Rachel brightened. "That's a great idea!" Then, she turned to Quinn. "Will you be alright here, Quinn?"

"Yes, Rachel. I'll be fine. 'Tis a very good idea to look for him and I'll have Sam here too."

Rachel seemed relieved. "Alright, then. Finn? Let's start with the courthouse. They might know."

"Alright."

Rachel tightly hugged Quinn. "Take care."

"You too. Bye Finn!"

"Goodbye."

Then, a thought struck Quinn. "Wait!" The other two stopped, just outside the front door. "If…if for some reason I'm not here, look for Sheriff Abrams or perhaps try…" she swallowed, "Dave's house."

Rachel knowingly smiled. "Quinn. You'll be safe here. Sam is a very capable man and you keep the doors and windows locked." But Quinn wasn't satisfied. "Really, Quinn! We'll be back very soon."

Quinn haphazardly nodded and then partially smiled. Rachel seemed satisfied with that. Then Rachel and Finn left the restaurant while Quinn closed it and locked it tight.

Alone. Alone again. Well, Sam was nearby but still, he wasn't exactly good company. Nevertheless, she was trying to remain focused on what lied ahead in her future. She wasn't looking forward to it – a police investigation, a funeral, more mourning… So predictably, Quinn sighed. As she did so, she noticed a bright yellow chrysanthemum on a table near the kitchen. She immediately remembered Sarah, but this time, Quinn thought a flower in Sarah's hair would be appropriate. This was such a common practice in the late nineteenth century and she even almost smiled at it.

She snatched the flower from the vase and quickly walked through the kitchen. Quinn unlocked the back door, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. But she paused. She knew what would be waiting for her and she had to summon up the courage to do this little task. There was a slight breeze from the west that seemed to relieve her and guide her on her little journey. And after a few more seconds of deliberation, she descended the short staircase.

Quinn knelt down beside Sarah. The poor cook had a miserable death and Quinn wanted to do something, anything to make this a little easier, even after the fact. She looked at the stem of the flower and broke it so it was only a few inches long. Then, she braved placing it behind her left ear, the only one that was accessible without disturbing her body. When completed, Quinn stayed kneeled and looked at her.

"May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." Quinn lovingly said, followed by _The Lord's Prayer_. She closed her eyes as the prayer went on.

That's when she felt a heavy blow to the back of her head. The world spun badly and then turned on its axis as her vision went dark. A few crows perched on the roof watched her.

Behind her, a 2x4 had just been swung. It looked like it would swing and hit the back of her head again, but nothing happened. Instead, he just knelt down beside her and stroked her blonde hair.

"Hello, wife. Did you miss me?"

.

Haze… Fog…

Quinn's vision was incredibly blurred and her stomach swirled with nausea. She struggled to hold her head up and there was a terrific pain there as well. Her head flopped to the left shoulder…and then the right. Her surroundings were still a haze but some shapes were visible – a fireplace, some shelving, and a table. She didn't really recognize anything and she shook her head.

Quinn immediately regretted that. The pain in her head doubled and felt like it was being pressed against a steel plate. She could feel something dribbling on her neck and didn't recognize that it was blood…yet. Instead, she looked about the room and gradually got her bearings.

"Hello wife."

She froze. The voice behind her was all too familiar and her surroundings came crashing into very clear focus. Quinn considered turning her head to try to see him but stopped when she heard his heavy boots on the floor, walking towards her.

"It's been a while." Dave said, placing a heavy hand on her right shoulder. She shivered at the touch and closed her eyes. He didn't have any love in his touch and Quinn could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

"I've missed you, Quinn. I've missed you a lot." He stroked her clavicle with his thumb. "I was wondering when you'd come home to me. You can never leave a good husband, now can you?" His thumb stretched along her shoulder and up towards her neck. She shook again. Dave laughed.

"Wife! You are most entertaining!"

He cruelly laughed again. And in her peripheral vision, she could see his shadow along the lit fireplace. He was raising his head towards the Heavens with his laughter. Finally, he calmed down and his hand crept even closer to her neck.

"Now that you're back," Dave slowly began, "you can be damn sure you will not be going anywhere."

She hated that she still couldn't see him. If only Quinn could turn somehow and face –

 _Her finger!_

She looked down at her hands. Quinn couldn't believe what she was seeing. Dave had wrapped her fingers with at least five strands of rope. There was no way she could use that ability. No way at all. Dave noticed what she was looking at.

"Oh yes," Dave whispered, his mouth right beside her ear. She shook at his sudden presence. "You didn't think I'd let you use that little gift of yours, did you?"

She didn't respond.

"Hell no! _Hell no, Quinn!_ I will not be fooled by that again." Then, his voice turned gravelly. "I should've killed you a long time ago."

"Stop." Quinn muttered, shrinking away from him.

"Stop?" Dave softly asked. Then, he licked her earlobe. She sobbed and leaned as far away as possible. It didn't help. He licked again and a tear fell down Quinn's face. Dave just smiled.

"I've met people like you before. People who have your ability." He wondrously said. "Oh, not many. But I have. I'm not exactly sure… _what_ you are, but you are…" He suddenly grabbed her neck with both hands and started to choke! " _My wife!_ "

Quinn gasped for air. Dave gritted his teeth from effort. She sat there, terrified and unable to get away.

 _Am I going to die?!_

Suddenly, Dave let go. Quinn struggled for air and even coughed a little. He sidestepped behind her and approached the kitchen table, his back to her.

"Not yet, wife." He muttered. This time, she could turn and see him. He appeared to be doing something at the table. She could hear clanging sounds, like metal on metal. While he was busy, she inspected her binds and discovered that there was no clear way out of these ropes. A low hum began to form in her brain as the thought of her own death could and would probably happen.

Dave turned around and looked down at her. She looked up but still couldn't see his face. But finally, finally, he took a few more steps forward and she could see his profile.

"You see this?" Dave asked, holding up a pig clamp. Quinn didn't respond. "I've used this many times. Sure, most of the time I've used it on hogs and pigs. Mostly to keep them quiet. But now…" He suddenly turned towards her, an evil smile on his face. Quinn screamed! Dave's eyes were bright red! "I'm going to use it on you."

Quinn screamed again and Dave just smiled. She turned away from him, his horrible eyes still penetrating her mind. She could feel his cold fingers on her chin, roughly turning her back to him.

"Now, now, wife." He scoldingly began. "You have to obey your husband, remember? Love, honor, and obey." He lowered the pig clamp towards her nose. Her eyes widened. "Just a little pinch, my dear."

Quinn shrieked for her life! Dave held her face tight as the pain from it coursed through her entire body. He laughed just as the nodules went inside her nostrils. Her screams echoed through the room and bounced off walls. Dave's laughter chorused along with her and soon, he matched her screams with giggles.

Suddenly, the clamp snapped! Quinn braced…but felt no pain.

"Goddammit!" Dave yelled, pulling the clamp back. "Fucking thing broke!"

He glared at her. "Are you sure you can only move things with that finger?!"

She shook and couldn't answer. He stood up.

"Well, no matter." He said, turning towards the door. Then he stopped and turned towards her with a cold smile. "I have many more in the barn. I'll be right back."

He opened the door and took a step outside. "Don't go anywhere!" Then, he slammed the door.

She was now alone. The hum in her brain clouded every single thing about her existence then. Quinn found it difficult to keep her head up, her eyes open, even her mouth closed. Complete and total fear threatened to shut down her entire body and she couldn't get away from him. Quinn realized that this might be the end of her life and it would be painful. At least she had hopes that Sheriff Abrams would be able to do something about it after she was gone.

But then, she heard a curious sound. Something odd and soft on the other side of the door. Quinn's head cocked to the side a little and wondered if Dave had come back already. Instead, to her total surprise, she heard a soft rapping on the door.

"Mr. Karofsky?" Rachel asked, knocking on the door. "Mr. Karofsky?"

Quinn's eyes bulged! " _Rachel! Help me! Come in!_ "

.


	10. Chapter 10

AN –

There is some foul language here, including one slur. No intentional offense to anyone. Also, this scene is inspired by the 1986 movie 'Extremities'. It's a decent movie and Farrah Fawcett is excellent in it.

.

* * *

Quinn was very annoyed. She sat in an oak rocker beside the roaring fireplace. There was a hymn that Rachel sang a while ago that Quinn hummed. A cup of tea near her was getting cold and would need refilled. Even though her surroundings were relatively peaceful, thanks to her and Rachel, it appeared that she was behind in her sewing.

The pile of clothes that needed repaired didn't go away. From the day she left her husband, the various shirts, socks, and cloths were in varying states of disrepair and there was always more sewing to do. Nevertheless, she was content as she worked with one hand.

Rachel sat across the way, staring intently at her. Quinn ignored her as she hummed along her womanly work. Sure, Quinn realized that Rachel had to have been overwhelmed by what the brunette was seeing, but really, life has to move on. It's not like Quinn didn't prepare Rachel for what she was about to see.

Rachel's eyes moved across the way, still dumbfounded by what she was watching with her own eyes.

"Our Father," Rachel quietly said, "who art in Heaven, hallowed-"

"That's the fourth time," Quinn said, still trying to sew with one hand, "you've recited that prayer."

"I just…" Rachel said with wide eyes, "I'm just trying to…gather my wits about…all of this."

"How about some tea?"

The brunette didn't take her eyes away. "O-OK."

"I'll get it for you." Quinn sweetly said. Then, she giggled, covering her mouth. "I think I can do it with one hand." Then, she looked at her ex-husband. "You can just stay there."

Rachel just kept watching him. Quinn revolved her finger repeatedly as she walked into the little kitchen. Sure it was difficult to prepare tea this way but she'd manage. It's not like she hadn't done this before.

Meanwhile, Dave continued to spin and spin like a somersault, in perfect time with Quinn's twirling finger. He no longer made revolting gurgling sounds as he hovered about a foot off the floor. Dave was simply caught in an invisible vortex, rotating like he was the wheel of a carriage. Rachel struggled to understand all of this just as she heard a teakettle whistle from the kitchen. A minute later Quinn appeared with a porcelain teacup in her hand. She walked over to her best friend and placed it in front of her.

"I find," Quinn said, "that I can do a lot of things with just one arm. In fact, I think I'm proud of myself."

Rachel looked at her friend like she didn't know her anymore. "This isn't right. This isn't…"

"Normal?" Quinn supplied. And then, she adorably smiled. "Oh, I know. And I'll release Dave soon." Then her eyebrows furrowed. "Just as soon as I figure out what I'm going to do with him."

"'Do with him'?" Rachel asked. Her hands were shaking and she took a quick sip of the tea, like liquid courage. "What do you mean, 'do with him'?"

"Well," Quinn matter-of-factly began, "he will hunt me down if I don't… _do_ something."

Rachel set the cup down with wide eyes. "Quinn! You don't mean you're going to kill-?"

"I don't know, Rachel." She sighed. "I just don't know."

Meanwhile, Dave flipped around and around. He was moving so fast that it was difficult to see him clearly. Rachel couldn't look at him any longer and chose not to.

"Stop it, Quinn." She begged. "Please. It's…it's too much."

Surprisingly, the blonde agreed. "Very well then."

Quinn stopped rotating her finger and Dave crashed to the floor. He lied there in a heap and struggled to move. His hands couldn't find the floor to stabilize himself and his eyes remained unfocused. Rachel and Quinn watched him with some fascination until the blonde got bored.

"Let's set him in a chair." Quinn suggested. "We can use the rope he tied me up with."

"Quinn!"

"Rachel! I need time to figure out what to do with him!" Her voice then grew dark. "If he lives, he will come after me forever. I may have to…" she swallowed. "kill him."

Rachel recited something in Hebrew and Quinn didn't bother to ask about it.

"Help me, Rachel."

Quinn grabbed one of Dave's limp arms and struggled to lift him. Dave was in no position to help himself and didn't even try. Outside, two crows positioned themselves on the windowsill outside the house. And Quinn was growing impatient.

"Rachel! Help me!" Quinn insisted. Then, she relented. "You helped me distract him when he returned from the barn. And he would've killed you when he saw you untie me. If it wasn't for my…" she held up her index finger, "you would be dead right now. So, come on. Help!"

Rachel thought for a second and then walked over to the helpless man. Finally, small gurgles escaped Dave's mouth and the two finally got him to a semi-standing position. Quinn used her finger to get a chair under him and they plopped him on it. Quickly, the two women wrapped ropes around Dave's arms and legs, and all too soon, the task was completed. He still couldn't hold his head up very well but that was acceptable to them. David Karofsky was secure and stuck in his place, much like Quinn was when she was living with him.

"Now," Quinn said, with an exhausted grunt, "we wait for him to recover."

"Why?"

Quinn looked at her astonished. "Because I want to talk to him! Convince him to stop calling on me. I have to do this. I really don't want to…kill him."

"Murder is wrong, Quinn."

"Harassing me forever is too."

The two women stared at each other, existing on opposite sides of this problem. Neither completely knew what to do or even _if_ something should be done. The problem here was that _both_ women were absolutely, positively, bone-chillingly correct. Dave wouldn't stop stalking Quinn and murder _is_ wrong.

Rachel silently sat back down, sipping her tea. Quinn returned to her sewing.

"It's very nice," Quinn said, "to sew with both hands. I can think now…" she glanced at her ex-husband, "about what to do."

Rachel flipped her head up. "Sheriff Abrams! We can contact him! We can turn him in and-!"

Suddenly, Dave began to laugh. At first, it was just a little rumble of giggles and he still struggled to hold his head up. But gradually, he lifted his head and loud, ugly guffaws of sheer hate filled the air. Looking at the ceiling, a thunderous roar of terrible, terrible sounds packed the room and his eyes were shut. Quinn and Rachel stared at him. The outside crows did too. Finally, he stopped laughing and dropped his head.

He opened his eyes. They were blood red.

Rachel screamed and Quinn sighed.

"What…?" the brunette stammered. "What… _are_ you?"

Dave lowered his head, testing the binds. Seeing that he couldn't go anywhere, he abruptly stopped. Then, he slowly lifted his head and evilly grinned at Rachel. When he spoke, his voice had a dark, deep timber that had never been heard before.

"I'm David Alan Karofsky." He mockingly said. His voice gave them the chills and both women slowly stood up.

"N-no, you're n-not." Rachel said, covering her mouth. His penetrating eyes seemed to look through her and pierce her soul. She swooned, placing a supporting hand on the table. Dave began to laugh again, but this time, it had that same deepness as his voice. She took an involuntary step backwards.

"Stand your ground." Quinn said, not taking her eyes off him.

" _Wiiiiiiiiiiiife_!" he growled. "Untie me, bitch! Untie me or I'll-!"

Quinn raised her index finger and threatened to twirl it. For a moment, Dave went silent. But seizing an opportunity here, he just smiled even wider at her.

"Go ahead, wife! Do it! You can kill me but…" His eyes flickered an even brighter red. " _I'll come back."_

"What are you?" Quinn whispered.

Dave ignored the question. "Aren't you going to get Sheriff Abrams?"

Rachel brightened. "Yes! Yes, Quinn! I'll get Sheriff Abrams and he can-"

"No, he can't." Dave said, shaking his head. "Damn! Are you as stupid as my wife here? You can't get him. You _can't_!"

"Why not?" Quinn asked with eerie calm.

Dave looked at her and nodded to the jelly cupboard. "Look in there."

Quinn didn't move. He motioned with his head to open it. And with sudden dread, she knew something was terribly wrong. Rachel did too but couldn't move. Dave began to growl with every breath he took as darkness permeated the air. Quinn held up her finger in some kind of defense as she turned and walked towards the cupboard. Step by step, she didn't want to open it but knew she had to. Finally she reached it and flung the hatch open.

Artie's bloody corpse fell onto the floor. The women screamed. Dave laughed. The crows just watched.

"I told you," Dave slowly said, "that you are mine. Your sheriff tried to take you away from me. I showed him."

Quinn knelt down and saw how Artie suffered. Somewhere in her mind, she heard Rachel reciting some kind of prayer and Dave's giggles. But all Quinn could think of was touching Artie's wounds. Despite the bloody, bruised, battered mess of Sheriff Abrams' body, she thought he was still one of the handsomest, kindest men she'd ever met.

Quinn could feel Rachel's comforting hand on her shoulder. For a long while, that was all she could do. She wanted to hold his lifeless hand, hoping in some way that she could have him squeeze back. She never even got the opportunity to hold his living hand. If only Quinn had more time, she could've opened herself up to Artie. But that didn't happen. Instead, this wonderful life, this wonderful _man_ was snuffed out in a cruel, cruel way.

Behind her, Dave's giggles increased in volume.

Suddenly, she stood up, turned around, and twirled her finger so fast that it windmilled! Dave flew in the air and was slammed onto the wall! The chair smashed and he cried out in pain. She held him up there at least five feet off the ground! Rachel screamed and Quinn stood there catatonic as she spun and spun her finger. Dave couldn't move at all and didn't seem able to breathe very well.

" _Damn you, Dave!_ " Quinn yelled.

He finally just laughed out loud, a villainous, horrible sound that made Rachel plug her ears. Dave hung there against the wall, immobile and impossible to understand suddenly. He spoke a language that couldn't have made sense to the women and Quinn was sick of hearing it. She abruptly stopped her finger and once again, Dave crashed to the floor.

But he swiftly got up! Evil grin and wide, red eyes, he charged at Quinn! Rachel screamed again and Quinn took action. Just as Dave made physical contact with her finger, she spun it and Dave flew against the wall _again_! She held him there and didn't dare stop her power. A few tense moments passed and Quinn wanted answers.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" she asked. Rachel walked over beside her.

Dave looked down on her, struggling to talk against the invisible pressure. "You're…mine…"

"No, I'm not, Dave."

"Yes, y-you a-are, wife."

She decided a different tactic. "Why did you…kill Sheriff Abrams?"

"He tried…t-to take you away from m-me."

"Dave, I was already gone. And what exactly are you?"

He paused, looking at her. "You…truly are b-beautiful, you know that?"

" _Answer the question!_ "

He cocked his head to the left and then the right. "Set me d-down and I-I'll tell you." She said nothing. "It's…hard for me to…talk like…this…"

Quinn relented. She wanted answers and she wasn't getting them. At least she held the upper hand (in more ways than one) with this problem and she considered his request. Rachel surprised her by speaking up.

"Do it, Quinn."

She looked at Rachel. "Really?"

"Yes, really. It's…I just know it's the right thing to do."

Quinn looked at her curiously. "Very well then."

She dropped her finger and predictably, Dave crashed to the floor. He rubbed his jaw and chest as he slowly stood up, back to the door. Bravely, Rachel took two steps towards him and stopped.

"What are you, Dave?" she asked. "Why did you kill Sheriff Abrams? Did you kill Sarah? Why won't you leave Quinn-?"

"Shut up, Kike." Dave growled, his voice coarse and dark.

"No!" Rachel yelled with clear intention. "Answer us! _Now!_ "

He appreciatively smiled. "You got some courage, Jew girl."

Rachel glared. "The Lord Jesus Christ is my-"

" _Shut the fuck up! Do not say that name!"_

That's when Rachel finally figured it out. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened. Quinn didn't understand but continued to hold up her finger in defense. Dave watched them with his blood red eyes, that same cruel smile enlarging. His face seemed to transform into a mask of pure hate.

And evil.

"You're a demon!" Rachel loudly whispered.

Dave glanced at his ex-wife, then back to Rachel, and nodded.

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	11. Chapter 11

AN –

FINAL CHAPTER. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you like my ending.

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"Why don't you take some Laudanum, Quinn?" Dave mocked. "It might make you feel better."

She didn't respond. Instead she simply looked at him and couldn't believe what he claimed. Quinn mulled it over in her mind and didn't exactly know what to do. And Rachel looked just as unsure. It's not like Dave was going anywhere for a while. They women tied the demon down on the chair and he had already tried to get away.

"No, thank you, Dave." Quinn said with as much mocking as Dave did. All he did was laugh.

"Didn't you ever wonder something?" He asked, his white teeth shining under red, penetrating eyes.

"What?" Quinn asked. He spit in her direction. It missed but only because she dodged. Rachel stood motionless.

He dropped his head, looking up at her with a menacing grin. "I'll bet you slept well when you were drugged."

Baffled, she just looked at him and didn't reply.

"Oh yes, wife." He continued. "You were just too, too tempting to…have my way with you." Quinn's eyes doubled in size. "Of course, I had to make sure the drug worked by adding some of my…" He shrugged. "lovin'. And every woman I've been with over the centuries does the same thing. _They love it_. And I _know_ you did. Of course, I can't reproduce so my seed went unused in your body. It didn't set well in your belly, did it?" He looked directly in her eyes. "And you thought you couldn't conceive? Ha! You dumb, bitch!"

"You're a monster…" Quinn muttered.

"No." Dave said, teeth whiter than alabaster. "I'm an incubus."

Rachel's eyes widened and she stared at the demon. "An incubus!"

He looked at her a little surprised. "You know that?"

Suddenly, Rachel grabbed her teacup and threatened to smash it on his face! Quinn yelled for her to stop and Dave simply smiled.

"Get thee back to Hell, devil spawn!" Rachel spit.

"No." Dave casually said. "I'm having waaaay too much fun here!"

The blonde intervened. "What's an incubus?"

Rachel lowered her cup but glared at Dave. "An incubus is a powerful demon. He…" she softened her voice, "has sex with sleeping women."

Things suddenly started to make sense in Quinn's brain as she mulled this news. Outside, the crows watched the entire scene unfolding. Quinn took a threatening step forward and raised her finger. Dave laughed, a hideous sound that sent vibrations throughout the farmhouse.

"You think you can kill me?!" He roared. "You _can't! You fucking can't!_ I've been around for centuries and you think your little finger can stop _me?!_ "

Quinn thought for a second before lowering her hand. Rachel placed the cup on the table and stared at it. Meanwhile, Dave shifted a little and got more comfortable in his seat. He arrogantly smiled up at the Christian women and had the upper hand, apparently. So much had happened to every one in the room and traumatic events often take time to process. But faith does wonders to one's resolve and the women were not so easily scared off.

"And that brings us back," Quinn said, "to what is it that you want?"

He looked up at her and shook his head. "Are you that dumb?" Quinn said nothing and Dave tsked. "I guess you are. I want you, wife. You're my wife."

Quinn seethed! "I am no longer your-!"

"Yes, you are. Because I said so. Because I finish what I start."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

His voice dropped to that awful timbre that sent shivers down their spines. "I want you until the day you _diiiiiiiie!"_

Rachel plopped down in her chair but Quinn stayed where she was. The fire continued to crackle and pop in the fireplace and the sewing still needed to be completed. Rachel's tea was probably cold. The crows stared.

"Of course," the incubus began, "you couldn't really be enough to satisfy my…" he glared up at her, "desires."

"What do you mean?" Quinn repeated.

"Why don't you ask your precious Sheriff Abrams there?"

" _Answer the question!_ "

Dave darkly chuckled. "Human females are so… _tasty._ But even some nights, I have to fuck other-"

"Don't swear!" Rachel ordered.

He looked at her oddly. "Really, bitch? _Really?_ That's what you're worried about?" She didn't answer and he sighed, swiveling a little on his chair. "Fine. Now, as I was saying, some nights, I have to…have _sexual intercourse_ where I can find it. It doesn't matter just as long as it's female." He started to get excited. "Sometimes, innards feel so good and so warm that I can't hold out that long and when I-!"

"It was you!" Quinn whispered. Dave stared at her, heavily amused. " _You_ were the one that killed those…animals."

He narrowed his red eyes at her. "Not before I had my way with-"

" _Enough!"_ Rachel screamed.

Dave and Quinn turned to stare at Rachel, who had her hands over her ears. Her teeth gritted and she couldn't look at him anymore. Like a little girl, she raced over to Quinn and clutched her arm.

"Quinn, do something!"

But the blonde beauty just stared at her. "Like what?"

"I can't…! I can't take this anymore! There's a demon in this house and he has to be cast out!"

"And how will you do that?" Dave calmly asked. "I'll come back." Then, he sneered, "I always do."

Quinn turned away from them and advanced towards the fireplace. She watched the flames licking the air, as she ignored Rachel's pleas and Dave's taunts. But even she couldn't help but admit to herself that Dave was a monster and had to be dealt with. Somehow. Abruptly, she turned back towards him.

"I want you gone, Dave."

He looked up at her, once again testing the ropes. Surprisingly, he said nothing. And then, it happened.

His mouth opened impossibly wide, as if he was trying to swallow his face. Red eyes caved in and became orbs of hate. Putrid breath spilled into the air and the incubus himself seemed to levitate, chair and all. Rachel and Quinn backed up involuntarily, watching Dave continue to transform. Arms increased in size and the air turned black. The outside crows squalled, cups and plates suddenly smashed, the pantry door slammed shut, and a language spilled out of Dave's mouth that no one could decipher.

Dave's shape became something black and sinister. Slowly, Rachel backpedaled behind Quinn, who held her finger up in defense. Meanwhile, Dave became the Incubus in front of them – a black mass with red eyes, terrifying teeth, crushing claws, and a corporeal form only barely visible.

The ropes slid off his body. Dave was free. He stretched his wavy limbs and then looked at his prey.

" _Then die, Quinn!_ " He roared.

He lunged for her. Before she could raise her finger in defense, he moved with inhuman speed and enveloped her body! They rose together in the room, a maelstrom of screams, spins, and total evil. Rachel made the sign of the cross and Dave smacked her! She flew across the room, landing near Artie's corpse. Quinn squirmed but was unable to escape his grip, held only inches from his terrifying, red eyes.

"You're mine, bitch!" Dave yelled.

Quinn felt a new pulse of energy within her and before she knew it, she screamed, " _By Heaven, I am not!"_

Suddenly, Dave stopped and backed away. Quinn, who was at least five feet in the air, twirled her finger and gently landed on the floor. By that time, Rachel had recovered and was standing near her. Astonished by what she was seeing, Rachel watched as Dave hung in the air. Quinn's ability seemed to be gaining strength, as his body seemed to expand and contract over and over.

"Be gone, demon!" Quinn proudly said. Rachel glanced at her and then at Dave.

He suddenly started to scream. Quinn sent her finger into a wild frenzy. Suddenly, he folded in on himself and lunged at Quinn! She screamed with a pain deep in her belly and almost fell to the floor! Dave's laughs pierced the room and Quinn fought back.

Over and over they tussled – a woman and a demon. Rachel wanted to do something but nothing came to mind. In the end, it was her faith that saved her.

"Our Father," Rachel yelled, "who art in Heaven! Hallowed be thy-!"

Dave roared, "Shove it up your ass, you worthless piece of-!"

"No!" Quinn screamed. She turned to her side, holding Dave's mass away with her finger. "No! Rachel! Keep going!"

"-name! Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be-!"

" _Arrrrgggghhhhh!"_

"Keep going, Rachel! _Keep going!_ "

"-done! On earth as it is…" she fiercely glared at the demon, " _in Heaven!"_

Dave screamed even louder and Quinn seemed to be getting the upper hand. Soon it wasn't just her finger that twirled. Her arm windmilled in the air until she herself was flying in the air! The crows and Rachel went silent as Dave anguished and Quinn spun.

Rachel took three steps back, her hands clutching her cheeks. And just as Dave's inhuman screams pierced humanity, a burst of sharp light _from Quinn_ stabbed Dave in the heart! He howled like a wounded animal and Quinn sent another blast at him. But this time it went through him. And like a tornado, Dave's body twisted and mangled into a black mess that soon caved in on itself. And when Quinn sent another burst of pure light his way, David Alan Karofsky the Incubus, was gone.

Silence…

Rachel was panting. She didn't even realize she completed _The Lords Prayer_ twice before the demon was gone. Or apparently gone. She tried her best to quickly gather her wits, but her level of understanding had almost evaporated. Her head was bowed and her left hand was supporting it a little. That's when she felt the warmest touch in her life.

Rachel looked up. Quinn too had transformed. But this was truly magnificent – the kind of benevolence sung about in arias and all heavenly hymns. Her blonde hair now was so long that it seemed to also be a garment. White enveloped her body, but also the stunning colors of azure, yellow, emerald, and gold. Her eyes transformed into gorgeous sapphires and her smile warmed the entire room immediately. Quinn hovered in the air a little and her hands were now completely extended towards her human best friend.

"Rachel."

The brunette shivered as she stared at Quinn. But no words came out of her mouth.

"Do not be afraid, Rachel." Quinn said. Her voice had an ethereal echo to it, full of kindness and love. "Do not ever be afraid again."

"What…?" Rachel stammered. "What…?"

Quinn sympathetically looked at her. "I now know my purpose in life. I'm so happy, Rachel! And you will be too."

The brunette smiled and wanted to know more. "But, Quinn. What…what is going on?"

The guardian angel just looked at Rachel. "Just understand one thing. Life is never about fear. Just happiness. I will look out for you and Finn. Forever. And ever. And when you deliver your firstborn in a few years, I'll be there to ease him into this world."

Rachel was overwhelmed! "I…I will get pregnant? And have a boy? Quinn, how can you know these things?!"

Every single time Quinn smiled, the room brightened. "I don't know. I just know it. Now I must go."

"But-!"

"No, Rachel. Live your life. Life needs to be lived. And please accept one thing before I go."

Rachel took a step forward. "Of course, Quinn. What?"

Quinn's body started to shimmy. "Herrrrrrre youuuuuu gooooooo!"

The guardian angel vanished. Rachel stared at the empty room and couldn't really understand anything anymore. But faith is always reliable for those kinds of moments. The demon was dead. Quinn was now a guardian angel. And she was going home to her loving husband. For the first time in a long time, Rachel Hudson smiled.

She shut the door from the outside. Turning, she happily walked away from Dave's farmhouse, feeling oddly alive and happy. Despite everything that had happened to her, there was warmth inside her. A life-affirming catharsis that showed her that she really doesn't have to be afraid of anything. It took a lot to understand that. But since when was life ever easy?

She reached the road and picked up her pace. The evening sky dotted with stars and hardly a cloud was there. Rachel continued smiling and immediately missed her best friend. And then, something wonderful happened.

Crows. Rachel came to a stop and stared up at them. And yet, they didn't seem too interested in crops or getting in her way. Instead, they flew nearby and didn't swoop. Many of them seemed to be ahead on either side of her, like guests at a wedding. When Rachel realized a kind of tunnel or procession was happening, she didn't even really question it. Too many odd things occurred that evening and Rachel Hudson was happy.

As she passed the aisle of crows, she looked up. A few of them had golden eyes. Astonished, she came to a stop and just watched them. A male crow flew near her looked back. The crow's eyes were bright blue and white – very similar to Quinn's new eyes.

Rachel knowingly smiled. "Oh, Quinn!" Happily shaking her head, Rachel continued on her journey escorted by the crows. And she had to get home soon. Tomorrow would be a big day in the city of Lima. Much was to be done – the funerals, questions, inquiries, etc. But also, she had to focus on living. Quinn, Sarah, Artie, and even Dave all reminded her of that. Rachel was surprised she forgot. But even supernatural reminders can be helpful with that.

Rachel arrived home and waved goodbye to the crows. They simply flew away. And when she turned the doorknob on her husband's house, her smile couldn't be any wider. Finn sat at the table, drinking from a teacup. He beamed back at her as she entered the room, closed the door, and joyously sighed.

"So!" Finn began, "How was your evening?"

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End file.
